

Jacques lutrelle 



PROPERTY OF 

C. PROPACH 

CHICAGO, ILL 



o 

-o 



MY LADY'S GARTER 




JACQUES FUTRELLE 



MY LADY'S GARTER 



By 

JACQUES FUTRELLE 



AUTHOR OF 

"THE CHASE OF THE GOLDEN PLATE" 

"THE THINKING MACHINE" 

"THE HIGH HAND" 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

F. R. GRUGER 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 



Copyright, 1912, by 
CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Copyright, 1912, by 
RAND. McNALLY & COMPANY 



1 DEDICATE THIS MY HUSBAND'S 
BOOK 

MAY FUTRELLE 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Jacques Futrelle (from a photograph) .... Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"The ring he had given her! . . . She would find it and 

wear it again!" 9 

" There were a lot of things about this son of his that he 

didn'tlike" 16 

" ' I say, I'm in love. You don't seem a bit excited about 

it. Do pay attention tome! '" 24 

'"I charge him with the theft ... of fifty thousand dol- 
lars' worth of jewels belonging to my daughter ! " 64 

" ' If that isn't one of the diamonds from the Countess of 

Salisbury's garter, I'll eat it' " 80 

" ' Oh, yes. It's about the Countess of Salisbury's garter. 

I have seen the afternoon newspapers' " . . . 104 

" ' It's old Daddy Heinz' account book absolute proof 
that The Hawk was alive on June 17, eight days 
ago!'" 

" After a long time an angel came, an angel in a dory" . 

" There, against the glass of the porthole, was a man's 

face!" 192 

" The record was still playing as he . . . disconnected her 

gasoline supply" 208 

" The next thing Meredith remembered, he was in icy cold 

water, swimming" 256 

"From beyond the sturdy oaken panels came the muffled 

crack of a revolver! " 320 




"The ring he had given her! 



wear it aeainl" 



Page 264 
She would find it and 



MY LADY'S GARTER 

PART I 

MY LADY'S GARTER 

ONCE upon a time, nearly six hundred 
years ago about the year 1344 to be 
more explicit His Gracious Majesty, King 
Edward III, guest of honor at the grand 
annual ball of the Larry L. Plantagenet 
Association, paused while dancing with the 
beautiful Countess of Salisbury, and, stoop- 
ing, picked up from the floor a lady's garter ! 
It was a ribbon of dark blue, edged with 
yellow a slender, shapely thing with buckle 
and pendant cunningly wrought of gold. 

The countess gasped, blushed, grabbed 
hysterically at her left knee, then giggled! 
Even beautiful women giggle! A smile ran 
around the ballroom; the smile became a 
titter. 

"Honi soil qui mal y pense!" His Majesty 
reproved sharply. 

I Now one may translate that a dozen ways: 
/'Evil to him who evil thinks," or "Shame 
be upon him who thinks ill of it." Anyway, 

9 



io MY LADY'S GARTER 

those gay young blades who had been boning 
their French with the idea of assisting Ed- 
ward III to the throne of France, discovered 
suddenly that there was nothing amusing 
in the incident; and ribald laughter died on 
their lips. For, be it understood, in those 
days it wasn't healthy to laugh unless the 
king laughed first. 

Bending gravely, His Majesty placed the 
garter around his own leg, the left, just below 
the knee, and the dance went on to the end. 
Then: 

"My my garter, please?" stammered the 
countess in charming confusion. 

"I shall return a pair of them, my dear 
Countess a pair done in gold," His Majesty 
told her gallantly. "Perchance there may 
be a jewel or so in the royal strong box with 
which to adorn them. You will honor me 
by accepting them." 

The Countess curtseyed to the floor. 

So, romantically enough, was born Brit- 
ain's highest order of chivalry, the Order of 
the Garter. Its insignia is a slender ribbon 
of dark blue, edged with yellow, and overlaid 
with shields of gold, upon each of which is 
the motto: "Honi soil qui mat y pense/" 
Its pendant represents St. George, armored, 



MY LADY'S GARTER n 

"on a white horse, poking a large spear down 
the vermilion throat of a green dragon with 
a barbed tail. Ten thousand men have died 
for it. 

Just what Queen Philippa, Edward's con- 
tort, had to say about it when her husband 
'appeared before her wearing another woman's 
garter, or how the Countess of Salisbury 
managed for the remainder of the evening, 
doesn't appear. These, together with other 
interesting details, are lost in the mists of 
antiquity. 

For many years a lady's garter lay among 
the precious relics tucked away in an obscure 
corner of the British Museum. It differed 
from the widely known insignia of the Order 
of the Garter only in its apparent extreme 
age, and in the fact that diamonds and 
rubies were set alternately in the six shields 
of gold overlaying the ribbon. This was one 
of the two original garters given to the Coun- 
tess of Salisbury by His Majesty, Edward III. 

Something like a year since the garter 
vanished. Obviously, it had been stolen. 



PART II 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 

CHAPTER I 

LOVE is the one immutable quality we 
poor humans possess. It is unchang- 
ing as the whiteness of snow, or the redness of 
roses, or the blush of the desert dawn. Its 
object may alter alas, how often it does! 
but love itself is an essential. That was as 
true ten thousand aeons ago as it is now, and 
as it will be ten thousand aeons hence. So, 
perforce, the delver into emotions must be 
trite in his expositions. 'Twas only a whim 
of the somber goddess who spins the threads 
of our lives that saved from triteness the affair 
I am about to recount. One wonders at times 
if there may not be a grinning countenance 
behind Fate's tragic mask! Who can say? 

In this instance it appears that the goddess 
acted deliberately. She had an afternoon off 
from her spinning, and amused herself by 
entangling two threads of destiny a white 
one and a black one. The white one was 
that of S. Keats Gaunt, poet, aesthete, and 
heir to millions; and the black one was that 

12 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 13 

of The Hawk, gentleman adventurer, master 
crook, and all-around expert in the legerde- 
main of theft. The result of her caprice 
must have amazed even the goddess in all 
her infinite solemnity. 

In the beginning genius unbound I am 
referring specifically to that rising young 
maker of verses, S. Keats Gaunt, familiarly 
Skeets had pierced the empyrean and in 
that starry vault found the Ideal; and had 
shot flaming, love-tipped javelins of poesy 
with so sure an aim that, wounded and 
fainting, that Ideal had fallen into his arms 
and nestled there, smiling. The holy fire of 
passion burst into iambics, and odes, and 
epics and things; following which we have 
the spectacle of a dreamy-eyed, long-haired 
young man going to his millionaire coal- 
baron father, and stating the case. 

The interview took place in his father's 
office, and at its peroration, consisting of two 
pasans shamelessly snatched from Shake- 
speare, John Gaunt swung around in his 
swivel chair and stared at his son scowlingly. 
There were a lot of things about this son of 
his that he didn't like; sometimes he caught 
himself wondering if anybody did like 'em! 
Some fathers are like that. 



i 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"And who, may I ask," he queried with 
exaggerated courtesy, "who is the lady you 
have chosen to honor with so marked an 
er er " He was never good at pretty 
speeches. 

"Helen Hamilton," replied the poet. 

1 ' Helen Hamilton ? ' ' John Gaunt rose from 
his seat with a roar, and his big fists were 
clenched. "Helen Blazes!" And he sat 
down again. 

"Hamilton," Skeets corrected mildly. 

"What in ! You can't ! Was ever a 
man ! Why, in the name !" John 
Gaunt spluttered on into sheer incoherency. 
There were simply no words to fit it, that 
was all. Finally, with an effort: "You 
can't mean that snippy, redheaded, little 
turned-up nose daughter of of Brokaw 
Hamilton?" 

"I mean the most beautiful woman God 
ever made, " and the poet's soul was swimming 
in his eyes, "Helen Hamilton, daughter of 
Brokaw Hamilton." 

John Gaunt's face blazed like a rising sun; 
the veins in his thick neck swelled. 

"No!" the voice of an angered lion. 

"Why not?" Skeets wanted to know. 
"Her family is as good as our own better; 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 15 

her father has as many millions as you have, 
perhaps more; her social position " 

"No!" John Gaunt barked again thun- 
derously. "No! No!! No!!!" 

The young man arose and stood, unemo- 
tionally pulling on a pair of pale lavender 
gloves. He was not surprised at the objec- 
tion; he had rather expected it, because of 
an old feud between his father and Brokaw 
Hamilton. 

"I'm sorry you feel that way about it," 
he remarked. 

"Now, look here, Sammy, if you " 

"Not Sammy, please, father." 

"Samuel, then," and the belligerent voice 
suddenly softened to a pleading whine. "Now 
look here, Samuel, I've always been a kind 
and indulgent father to you, haven't I?" 

"I suppose so." 

"I've let you wear your hair long like that, 
and haven't said a word, have I?" 

"No." 

"And I didn't object at all when you 
began parting your name in the middle, 
did I?" 

"No." 

"I've even called you Keats when I 
remembered, haven't I?" 



16 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Skeets conceded the point. 

"And when nobody would accept your 
poetry, didn't I buy you a magazine to print 
it in?" 

"Yes." A deep sigh, and the poet dream- 
ily brushed the long forelock from his eyes. 
"After all, posterity " 

"And haven't you been printing all you 
could write?" John Gaunt went on hastily 
he knew that speech about posterity. " Now, 
do be reasonable. Run along and play with 
your magazine. Cut out the gab about this 
snippy, redheaded little " 

"Pardon me!" and for an instant the 
poet's eyes forgot to be poetic. They glit- 
tered. 

"This this absurd idea about Miss Hamil- 
ton," his father amended. 

"What's your objection to her?" 

"I don't like her father." 

"It's not her father I want to marry." 

" I don't care who it is you want to marry, " 
John Gaunt raged suddenly. "If he, she, 
or it is named Hamilton, I object. Do you 
understand? That's all." 

"That is your irrevocable answer?" 

"Yes." 

Skeets strolled out of the office. 



17 

The following day the price of coal went 
up. John Gaunt had to take it out on some- 
body, so he put the skids under the consumer, 
and fell to wondering hazily if he could find 
a feasible scheme by which he might strip 
Brokaw Hamilton of his millions. 

Skeets spent forty-eight hours composing 
more iambics, and odes, and epics and things, 
all of them dripping gloom. Black wasn't 
half black enough as a simile for the melan- 
choly which possessed him. 

On the day of that fateful interview Helen 
Hamilton, too, had done the conventional 
thing that is, she did it as nearly as she ever 
did anything conventionally. Anyway, she 
went to her father. He happened to be a 
railroad magnate, like and yet unlike the 
masterful John Gaunt. Their points of re- 
semblance were a genius for accumulating 
millions and a hatred, each for the other, 
which had endured stanchly, unfalteringly, 
for a dozen years. 

Oddly enough, Brokaw Hamilton was, at 
the moment, engaged in working out a plan 
by which he hoped to apply the screws to 
the Gaunt coal interests through his own 
multiple railway connections. 

He was at a big desk in his study a curious 

2 



i8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

room, littered with articles of virtu, and rare 
and elegant bric-a-brac. It was an obsession 
with him, this collecting of quaint artistic 
trifles, anything that happened to appeal to 
his catholic taste personal ornaments, pic- 
tures, plate, jewels. One of the paperweights 
on his desk was the mummied foot of an 
Egyptian princess, and beside it lay a heavy, 
square-shouldered coin of the time of Nero. 
In a small glass case beside his pen rack was 
an antiquated, mangy goose quill with which, 
Brokaw Hamilton liked to believe, King John 
had unwillingly signed Magna Charta. Three 
or four cabinets against the wall were filled 
with treasures garnered from the four corners 
of the world. One end of his house was 
given over to the pictures and larger articles 
of his collection; here in his study he kept 
the smaller and more precious. 

The hobby had cost him millions, and he 
liked to recall that he had gouged many of 
those millions out of John Gaunt. Their 
warfare of a dozen years had been bitter, 
merciless, continuous, with no quarter asked 
and none given. Now for the coup de grace/ 
If this new plan he was working on turned 
out as he wished, gad, he'd make John Gaunt 
squirm! And he would celebrate the event 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 19 

by buying that Corot he had his eye on! 
A quarter of a million francs ! Dirt cheap ! 

Helen came romping into the study; she 
was the kind of girl who romped. Her 
vigorous young muscles were wiry and inde- 
fatigable; she could follow a golf ball for 
miles and clout it in the eye every clip; or 
play tennis, or ride horseback, or swim, or 
drive a motor car or repair it, for that 
matter. Altogether, an able young citizen 
was Helen, with a self-reliance that was 
inborn. She would have been astonished if 
any one had ever suggested to her that she 
might need help to do a thing. 

"Hello, Pops," she greeted irreverently. 
"Are you busy?" 

"Yes, very." He didn't look up. 

"I just came in to tell you I'm in love." 

"Yes, yes, " abstractedly. " Speak to your 
mother about it." 

Helen perched herself on an end of the big 
desk as one privileged, and sat there swinging 
one foot, nursing her knee. Her nose crinkled 
charmingly; a small nose, saucy, tip-tilted, 
piquant. 

"I say, I'm in love," she repeated aggres- 
sively. "You don't seem a bit excited about 
it. Do pay attention to me!" She leaned 



so MY LADY'S GARTER 

over and crumpled up the sheets of scrawly 
figures upon which her father was at work. 
"Do you hear? I'm in love!" 

Brokaw Hamilton was used to this petty 
tyranny. He reached for the crumpled sheets, 
knowing the effort to be vain, then with a 
sigh dropped back into his chair. 

"In love!" he repeated. "You? Pooh, 
pooh! Why, you're nothing but a child!" 

"I'm twenty-one , " she protested . ' ' A child , 
indeed! Why, I'm almost an old maid!" 

Her father's thoughts were far away. . . . 
There were hundreds of thousands of tons 
of Gaunt coal to be hauled every year. 
... If he could get away with this, and 
keep out of the clutches of the Interstate 
Commerce Commission, why 

"Well?" Helen demanded imperiously. 
"Why don't you ask me who it is?" 

"Who is it?" obediently. 

"He's a poet!" triumphantly. "I mean 
a real poet a regular poet who gets 'em 
printed." She unfolded a sheet torn out of 
a magazine and smoothed it on her knee. 
"Now just listen, please; and remember I 
am the Helen of whom he speaks: 

" 'O Helen, thy hair is an aura of gold 
Helen!'" 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 21 

"Sounds like swearing," complained her 
father; "that 'O Helen/ I mean." 

"Why, Pops! I think it is perfectly 
heavenly. And there's a whole page of it. 
It goes on like this: 

" ' Helen, thy hair is an aura of gold 

O Helen! 
O Helen, thine eyes hold a secret untold 

O Helen! 
O Helen, thy lips ' " 

"Best thing I ever heard," interrupted 
the railroad magnate hurriedly. "So ori- 
ginal, too! Leave it, and I'll look it over 
some time. I'm very busy now." 

" 'Aura of gold!' Isn't that perfectly cork- 
ing, Pops? 'Aura of gold!' She detached 
a strand of her hair and inspected it critically 
by the simple process of looking at it cross- 
eyed. "But / should have called it red. 
Why, Pops, it is red red as a geranium." 

"Yes, yes," he assented absently. His 
eyes were contracted, his thoughts far away 
again. 

"Wouldn't it be scrumptious, Pops, to 
have a poet in the family? He could com- 
pose odes to our birthdays, and anniversaries, 
and and when the cook leaves. And I'm 
simply crazy about him, Pops ! It's been going 



22 MY LADY'S GARTER 

on for months the poems in the magazines, 
I mean, all of them dedicated to me. Please, 
may I have him?" 

Helen caught her father's face in her 
strong young hands, and compelled him to 
look at her. 

"What does your mother say about it?" 
he asked, smiling. 

"Well, she doesn't seem very enthusi- 
astic, ' ' Helen confessed. ' ' You know, Pops, ' ' 
she ran on in a gush of confidence, "lots of 
men have made love to me, and there wasn't 
one of them I'd have. Why, I couldn't 
marry a man whom I could beat playing 
golf, and tennis, and all those things. But 
a poet! You see, he's different. One doesn't 
expect him to to do all that. His soul is 
above those things! He would be writing 
things about me always oh, lovely poems!" 
She leaned forward and dabbed her rosy 
lips against the corrugated brow of her 
father. "And he'd get 'em printed, too!" 

"Who," her father inquired finally, with 
<a flicker of interest, "who is this wonderful 
poet who 'gets 'em printed'? " 

Helen pursed her lips and swung a silk- 
stockinged ankle violently. 

"That's just it," she said. "Mother said 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 23 

when I told you you would go off like a set 
piece at a Fourth of July celebration." 

"I can imagine your mother saying that," 
commented her father sarcastically, "just 
as you have expressed it." 

"Well, anyway, she said you'd be awfully 
angry." 

"Why should I be angry?" he went on 
curiously. "Who is your poet who 'gets 
'em printed'?" 

"You won't get mad and bellow?" 

"Who is he?" 

"Skeets Gaunt." 

Brokaw Hamilton sat motionless, regarding 
her for a tense instant, then came to his feet 
with angrily writhing hands, following which 
there was a series of vocal explosions which 
failed to resolve themselves into words. 
Helen watched him with a pout on her lips, 
and disappointment in her blue, blue eyes. 

"There!" she said at last. "Mother said 
you'd do that!" 

"No!" bawled Brokaw Hamilton. "No! 
A thousand times, no ! That pale-faced, long- 
haired, squidgy-shouldered shrimp the son 
of John Gaunt? No!" 

Helen slid from the desk and enfolded her 
infuriated parent in her arms; round, brown 



24 MY LADY'S GARTER 

arms that were about as soft and yielding 
as a as a steel cable. She held him until 
he ceased to struggle, her eyes meeting his 
pleadingly, her voice tenderly alluring: 

"Please, Pops!" 

"No!" 

"Pretty please!" 

"No!!" 

"Pretty please with kisses on it?" 

"No!!!" 

Helen shook her respected father angrily, 
as a terrier shakes a rat shook him until 
the parental teeth rattled after which she 
released him and strode to the door with 
smouldering eyes. There she stopped and 
stamped a small foot majestically. 

"I will have him!" she declared hotly. 
"I will! I wiU! I wiU! And I think you're 
a mean old thing, so there!" 

Having relieved herself of this rebellious 
sentiment she went out, banging the door 
behind her. She spent the next hour scold- 
ing her maid. The maid smiled patiently; 
she was used to it. 

That which we are forbidden to have is 
that we most desire. Had Brokaw Hamilton 
and John Gaunt been as wise in the work- 
ings of the human heart as they were in the 




'/ say, I'm in love. You don't seem a bit excited about it. 
Do pay attention to me!' " 



Page 19 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 25 

railroad and coal business respectively, they 
would have known parental objection is an 
infallible method of bringing doubting hearts 
together. For the inevitable happened. 

Forty-eight hours' toil with a rhyming 
dictionary and thesaurus sufficed to empty 
Skeets Gaunt 's soul upon white paper. It 
was a vast bitterness, and he spread it over 
reams and reams; after which, practically 
enough, he sent a telegram to Helen. It was 
to this effect: 

" My father objects. 

" SKEETS." 

The answer came immediately: 

"So does mine. 

"HELEN." 

An hour elapsed; another telegram: 
"Let's elope. 

"SKEETS." 

The answer: 

"You're on. 

"HELEN." 

Ten minutes later : 

"Meet me at St. Regis for luncheon to-morrow. 
We will arrange details. " SKEETS." 



26 MY LADY'S GARTER 

The messenger went back with this: 

" I'll be there. 

"HELEN." 

As I said, all this was inevitable, having 
already happened some thousands of times 
inevitable and trite, merely leading up to those 
incidents which followed the first entangling 
of the life threads of S. Keats Gaunt, poet, 
and The Hawk, gentleman adventurer. 



CHAPTER II 

HAVING lined his capacious inner man 
with a couple of pies which he had 
adroitly filched from a kitchen window under 
the very eyes of the cook, The Hawk drew 
his threadbare coat more closely about him 
and moved along the road sluggishly, like 
a gorged snake, seeking a spot whereon to 
lay his weary head. It was shortly after 
ten o'clock at night, and the bullying wind 
which came whooping in from Long Island 
Sound, and bellowed through the bright new 
green leaves of the overhanging trees, had 
just enough chill in it to make a night in 
the open unattractive. Through interlacing 
boughs The Hawk could see, too, heavy, 
damp clouds scudding across the heavens, 
growing momentarily blacker. After awhile 
it would rain; now he must find some indoor 
place to sleep. 

Realization of this immediate necessity 
brought him to a reflective standstill, and he 
looked back upon the scantily lighted road 
he had just come, trying to remember if he 
had passed a barn or a vacant house. Fin- 
ally, shaking his head, he turned and looked 

27 



28 MY LADY'S GARTER 

the other way, on toward the city of New 
York, some dozen or more miles off. A 
couple of hundred yards ahead of him an 
electric light glimmered at a bend in the 
road. Beyond might be the very place he 
was seeking, so he trudged on, head down 
to the wind. 

Evil days were these for The Hawk, lean, 
empty, profitless days. Occasionally, through 
the haze of half a dozen years, he permitted 
himself the luxury of recollection recollection 
of the splendid prodigality of his early crimi- 
nal career an endless summer of roses and 
wine. Endless? Well, hardly that, after all. 
For there had come an end, abruptly, one 
morning when he awoke to find the police 
of the world specifically Detective Meredith 
of the city of New York halloing about his 
ears. That day, six years ago, he had for- 
saken the glory that had been his and 
vanished into oblivion with the hounds of 
justice yelping at his heels. 

The gnarled finger of Time had written 
many chapters in his little book since then 
chapters of hardship, all of them, but not 
without avail, for that same finger had made 
some erasures as well; and finally the hounds 
had been thrown off the scent and had 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 29 

returned to their kennels, beaten. So now, 
after men's memories had lapsed, The Hawk 
was daring to go back to those scenes of his 
early triumphs the great, glittering, relent- 
less city of New York to lay heavy toll 
upon it for all these bootless years. Daddy 
Heinz was still alive; he would begin there 
with good clothes, clean linen, and a square 
meal. 

In the days of his glory The Hawk had been 
foremost in his profession. He had stolen 
smilingly, audaciously, and incessantly, but 
always with the fine discriminating eye of 
an artist, disdaining the booty which fell to 
the lot of the commonplace thief. In those 
days he had specialized in jewels other 
people's; now he was driven to filching pies 
from kitchen windows. It pained his aesthetic 
soul. In the old days his home had been 
a suite in a fashionable hotel; now he was 
seeking a vacant house and a soft spot in the 
floor thereof. In the old days, as George 
Harrington Leigh, he had won and held a 
position in the social life of the metropolis ; he 
had been a member of a dozen or more clubs, 
and a welcome guest in many of the city's 
exclusive homes; now the only place where 
he could be sure of a welcome was in a cell. 



30 MY LADY'S GARTER 

No one realized more acutely than he the 
disgrace of his plunge from the exalted pin- 
nacle George Harrington Leigh had once 
adorned. That bold daring which had mys- 
tified and tantalized the police of the world, 
and had ultimately made him the most 
widely sought criminal of his day, and that 
superficial polish which had given him the 
outward appearance of a gentleman, had 
sloughed off with the name; by environment 
The Hawk, nameless now, had become a 
sneaking, cringing creature of darkness, 
startled by an unexpected voice, terrified by 
a sudden footstep. So he had lived for half 
a dozen years, lived until he rebelled at the 
monotonous squalor of it all. He was essen- 
tially luxurious by nature; he would chance 
it all, and go back to the luxury he craved 
wrench it from the grasping greed of New 
York. What had been done once could be 
done again ! 

Physically The Hawk was more perfectly 
equipped now than he had ever been for the 
parasitic career he intended to renew. The 
rotundity which had come from fat living 
in the George Harrington Leigh days had 
gone; now he was slender, almost boyish in fig- 
ure, inconspicuous of stature, lithe, powerful, 



sinewy built like a steel bridge. The face 
beneath the scrubby brown beard was still 
youthful, the hair thick and waving; the lips 
boasted the same old innocent smile, and 
the eyes were as guileless as ever shallow 
as water in a pan. Fear of recognition, even 
by Detective Meredith, his nearest, dearest, 
most intimate enemy, had little place in his 
calculations. Six years had passed. In appear- 
ance he was no longer the man Detective 
Meredith had known the ultra-fashionable 
George Harrington Leigh. 

There in the highway The Hawk paused 
to thank his stars that there had never been 
a photograph of him in existence, not even 
a vagrant snapshot. Once before he had 
thanked his stars for this at the time of his 
disappearance, when a world-wide alarm had 
been sent out for him, and there had been 
no picture, only a description. And a con- 
venient description it was one that might 
be fitted to three men in every ten. 

Introspection was brought to an end 
abruptly by the spluttering of an automobile 
engine, and The Hawk moved to one side, 
out of the road. The car seemed to be just 
around the bend, screened by a green blanket 
of shrubbery; and as he went on he saw its 



32 MY LADY'S GARTER 

red tail light skimming off toward the glowing, 
cloud-reflected radiance of the city in the 
distance. Idly enough he noted the number 
of the automobile 1234. Then his atten- 
tion was attracted by something else that 
happened to be of far more importance 
at the instant a 'To Let' sign nailed to a 
gatepost. Obviously, here was a vacant house 
a place to sleep. 

Glooming up before him, somewhat back 
from the road, he made out dimly the lines 
of an old mansion set in the midst of wind- 
worried trees. With one quick, furtive look 
about, The Hawk vaulted the low fence and 
skulked along through the shadows toward 
the house. His cat-like eyes told him that 
the front door had been nailed up, and that 
all the blinds were closed. Good! He'd get 
in the back way. Somewhere he'd find an 
unfastened window or an insecure lock, and, 
if not, there were other ways. 

He laid a hand upon the crossbarred tim- 
bers of the back door and tried them tenta- 
tively. They were loose. He pulled, and 
they fell off. He tried the knob. It turned, 
and the door opened silently inward. He 
peered down the long, black hall for half a 
minute, listening; there was only the creaking 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 35 

and groaning of the trees overhead. He 
stepped inside, and recognized instantly the 
musty odor of an unoccupied house. He 
closed the door behind him. 

Of the very nature of things, The Hawk 
was noiseless in his movements, noiselessness 
being a prime requisite in the gentle art of 
thieving; so from the moment he pushed 
open the door until he had passed almost 
the length of the hall there had not been a 
sound not so much as the whisper of a 
footfall. His left hand, following the wall, 
came to an open door. He turned into a 
room and, confident, took three or four steps 
forward, peering about him in the blackness. 
Chilly enough in here, but better than out- 
side on a night like this. Anything to 

Suddenly he stopped still, crouching. There, 
hanging in the pall of gloom on a level 
with his eyes, directly in front of him and not 
more than a dozen feet away, was a single 
luminous point the glowing end of a cigar- 
ette with a tendril of smoke curling upward! 
The Hawk's muscles flexed and, with his 
gaze riveted upon the point of light, he slid 
a cautious foot backward with the one idea 
of escaping. Surely his entrance had been 
silent, when the man smoking that cigarette 



34 MY LADY'S GARTER 

4 

hadn't heard him! Another cautious foot 
followed the first the door was here, some- 
where, right behind him; then came a quick, 
violent crash, and The Hawk felt himself 
going over. His head struck the wall with 
a whack, whereupon he was regaled with an 
astonishing astronomical exhibition. 

Further necessity of caution was gone. 
He scrambled to his feet, extricated himself 
from the chair he had stumbled into, and ran 
blindly, headlong, into the wall. The fall 
had knocked all sense of direction out of him. 
He tried for the door a second time, and again 
he struck the wall. Without further ado he 
dropped flat on his face on the floor. 

''Don't shoot!" he called. 

Now would come a rush of feet, and lights, 
and excitement, under cover of which he 
hoped to escape. He waited with indrawn 
breath. Nothing happened. Instead, came 
dead silence again a silence that seemed to 
be pressing down upon him as a weight. 
Astonished, he raised his head and screwed 
his neck around in anticipation of the worst, 
whatever it might be. There, in front of 
him, was still the lighted cigarette, motion- 
less as before. The quiet was so tense he 
could hear his heart beat. 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 35 

Slowly fear gave way to curiosity. Why 
didn't somebody start something? A dead 
man could have heard all that clatter! 

"Well, how about it?" he queried of the 
void. 

There was no answer. An inexplicable 
chill ran down The Hawk's spinal column, 
and to put an end to the eeriness of it he 
fished out a match and struck it, holding^ 
it far to one side. If anybody did shoot he 
would shoot in the direction of the flame. 
The feeble flicker showed him a huge marble 
mantel and, resting upon it, a lighted cigar- 
ette, nearly burned out. One hasty glance 
about the room assured him he was alone. 
This settled, he glanced again toward the 
cigarette. Lying beside it on the mantel was 
a small package, wrapped in white paper. 
He stared at it inquiringly until the match 
scorched his fingers and went out. 

During that next half minute, still prone 
upon the floor with ears trapped for the 
slightest sound and eyes straining, he watched 
the cigarette burn down to a stub and the 
light of it vanish, the while he did some 
thinking. A cigarette wouldn't burn more 
than eight or ten minutes at most, therefore 
the person who had placed it on the mantel 



36 MY LADY'S GARTER 

had only just gone out as he had entered 
gone out of the house certainly, otherwise 
the clatter of his fall would have brought 
him back into the room. All of which led 
his thoughts back to the automobile 1234. 
Evidently it had been standing in front and 
the person, or persons, who had gone away 
in it had left this cigarette and the package. 

The Hawk arose, struck another match, 
and picked up the cigarette stub. There 
might be a lingering whiff in it, and in these 
days of his degradation he was not above 
smoking another man's leavings. No, it 
was too far gone. A good cigarette, too a 
Regent he saw by the gold print on the tip. 
He held up the paper parcel and shook it 
inquiringly, after which he opened it, disclos- 
ing a well, what the deuce was it? A 
bracelet? No. A a necklace? No-o! It 
was a slender ribbon of dark blue, edged with 
yellow and overlaid with shields of gold in 
which there were set alternately diamonds 
and rubies. There was a pendant, too St. 
George and the Dragon; and a motto in an- 
cient lettering, barely decipherable: " Honi 
soil qui mat y pense!" 

It had been many, many moons since The 
Hawk had held a jewel in his hand, and his 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 37 

first emotion was one of sheer delight at 
the irridescent beauty of these the delight 
of a connoisseur which embraced not only 
the stones but the delicate, exquisite work- 
manship of the gold in which they were 
set. The thing, whatever it might be, was 
old, old! 

Until the match burned out the spell held 
him dumb and motionless. The light of 
another match revealed a subtle change in 
his face. It was no longer that of the con- 
noisseur; it was that of the expert. The 
guileless eyes had narrowed; they were fairly 
aglitter with avarice as The Hawk studied 
the stones three diamonds and three rubies. 
At least five carats, every one of them, and 
flawless, as well as he could make out in 
the uncertain light. A fortune picked off a 
mantel in a vacant house! 

"Honk! Honk!" 

The cry of an automobile horn just outside 
cut cleanly through the enshrouding gloom 
and hauled The Hawk around to a realization 
of the necessity of escape. The person or 
persons who had left this this, whatever it 
was had come back for it! He snapped out 
the match, darted through the open doorway, 
and sped along the hall. He flung the back 



38 MY LADY'S GARTER 

door open wide, and a flying leap took him 
through. 

Just rounding the corner of the building, 
coming toward him, were the shadowy figures 
of three men. A dozen steps, and The Hawk 
had vanished into the park-like woods in 
the rear. 

"Halt!" came a sharp command. 

The Hawk, intent upon business of his 
own, did not answer. A moment later there 
came the crash of a revolver, and he heard a 
bullet thud into a tree butt at his right. 

"Stand guard at that door, Fallon, " some 
one commanded brusquely. "We'll get this 
chap!' 1 

"This," and The Hawk laughed blithely 
as he ran, "this is no place for a minister's 
son!" 



i 



CHAPTER III 

F the Countess of Salisbury's ghost and 
a charming spook it must be, to be sure ! 
I say, if the Countess of Salisbury's ghost 
ever lays aside harp or pitchfork, whichever 
she uses in the Great Hereafter a harp, of 
course! How rude of me! ever lays harp 
aside and deigns to stalk this mundane sphere; 
and if she or it happened to be hanging 
around that vacant house that night, keep- 
ing a watchful eye over that gorgeous trifle, 
the gift of a king which once upon a time 
adorned one of her shapely er er knees, 
then she or it must have been astonished 
at the things that happened astonished and, 
perchance, indignant at the laying of profane 
hands upon a trinket so personally intimate. 

But inscrutable is the infinite. Perhaps 
her spook wasn't astonished at all. Perhaps 
she or it understood perfectly in what 
circumstances her garter came to be on the 
mantel in that vacant house; perhaps she 
or it knew that a thief would find it there; 
perhaps she or it even knew that that 
thief would be The Hawk; perhaps she or 
it knew that two determined men with the 

39 



40 MY LADY'S GARTER 

instincts of bloodhounds would chase The 
Hawk more than a mile across country, up 
and down alleys, in and out of woods, over 
fences, through hedges; and that ever and 
anon as he fled his speed would be stimulated 
by the petulant pop of a pistol in his rear. 
Perhaps, as I say, the spook knew right along 
that all this was going to happen. 

Anyway, there is an end of all things. 
Chance led the flying footsteps of The Hawk 
into a narrow street of a village in The Bronx. 
On each side of him was a deep hedge of 
shrubbery, but The Hawk didn't make the 
mistake this time of going over or through 
either of these. Instead, he ran on to the 
end of the street with his pursuers in sight 
a hundred yards back, turned to his right, 
leaped the hedge immediately after he had 
rounded the corner, and doubled back through 
the yard in the rear of some big estate. Ten 
seconds later he heard the heavy thud-thud 
of two men's footsteps beyond the hedge as 
they rushed past him in the opposite direc- 
tion. They were not more than three yards 
away; he could hear them blowing. 

Listening tensely until they had turned 
the corner, The Hawk, crouching close to the 
ground, leaped, clearing the hedge, into the 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 41 

narrow street the two men had just left. He 
darted directly across it and plunged rabbit- 
like through the hedge on the other side. 
This, too, was some big estate. He ran 
noiselessly, yet earnestly, across the wide 
velvety lawn, around the mansion which 
loomed magnificently in front of him, and 
settled down on a tree stump to get his 
breath. The jeweled garter was still clasped 
tightly in his left hand, and he was grinning 
cheerfully, with his tongue hanging out. 
His pursuers were bound full tilt in the other 
direction. 

Ten minutes passed. All sound of pursuit 
had died away in the distance. The dead 
night swooped down upon him suddenly, a 
tangible darkness; a pulsing of waters as 
they rippled musically came to him, and a 
cricket cried under his heel. Quite himself 
again after his breathing space, The Hawk 
fell to building castles in the air, the while he 
caressed lovingly the little trinket that was 
to change the whole tenor of his life. How 
and where it came from he didn't know; he 
wasn't sufficiently interested to even wonder 
about it. He was engrossed in contemplation 
of the fact that its coming meant that the 
lean days were past, and hidden under a 



42 MY LADY'S GARTER 

new name and a new identity he would again 
assume the life of luxury which Detective 
Meredith had so rudely interrupted six years 
previously. 

Already he had driven the starting wedge 
into this new life, thanks to the regal gener- 
osity of Edward III some six hundred years 
ago, for now in his outstretched palm he held 
jewels, coruscating in the darkness, worth 
worth, well, at the very lowest, ten thousand 
dollars, possibly twenty, even thirty. All in 
all it was a very tidy beginning. It would 
serve to reintroduce him to the world where 
his star had once been resplendent, and with 
the renewal of those ties of the past, under 
his new name of course, would come full 
opportunity for the display of those talents 
with which nature had endowed him. There 
remained only to see Daddy Heinz in order 
to convert prospects into coin of the realm. 

The Hawk rose impulsively and shook a 
fist at the glowing spectrum of New York. 

"What I have done to you," he informed 
the unsuspecting metropolis, "isn't a marker 
to what I'm going to do to you now!" 

In his venturesome life The Hawk had had 
many surprises, one of them within the last 
hour. Now came another, a sibilant warning 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 43 

from some mysterious recess of the night 
a warning in a woman's voice! 

"Sh-h-h-h!" It was a long aspiration. 
"Not so loud, silly!" This in a reproving 
whisper. " Don't make a sound ! " 

Mechanically The Hawk's muscles grew 
taut and a thrill tingled through his nerve 
fibers. Only his head moved as his furtive 
eyes searched the gloom for the source of the 
voice. He didn't make a sound; that was 
one of the best things he did not making 
a sound. He merely stared, stared, seeking 
to penetrate the veil of night, the while his 
heels fairly itched to be going. 

"Come here under my window and catch 
these things," came a cautious command. 
Glancing up at the suggestion, The Hawk 
made out dimly a vague splotch of a face 
set in the blackness of a window frame on the 
second floor. "And do hurry!" 

The tone was imperious. The Hawk 
obeyed from an impulse he himself couldn't 
have analyzed. It may have been sheer 
dare-deviltry; it may have been the lure of 
the voice one can always tell the voice of a 
pretty woman. Anyway, The Hawk darted 
across the intervening space and crouched close 
in the shadow of the wall beneath the window. 



44 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Now catch this, and be very, very care- 
ful!" He knew the woman in the window 
was leaning out, holding over his head a 
what was it? A trunk? "If you crush this, 
or drop it, I'll never forgive you. It's my 
best hat!" 

The Hawk drew a long breath. The mas- 
sive box suspended over him fell, like a 
feather. He caught it adroitly and placed 
it on the ground beside him. And he wasn't 
at all surprised. It seemed the most natural 
thing in the world that he should be hauled 
up in the lee of a strange house at eleven 
o'clock at night catching hats out of a window 
at the command of a voice whose owner he 
didn't know, the while two determined men 
were ripping the earth open looking for him. 

"Now, my bag, please," came the voice 
again. He could read in it the sweet confi- 
dence born of his not having dropped the 
hat. "It's rather heavy. Be careful!" 

Obediently The Hawk grabbed out into 
the night and rescued a suit case. Heavy! 
It nearly took him off his feet. Obviously 
it was filled with bricks or or lead pipe, or 
something ! He set the bag on the ground and 
looked up again, expectantly. 

Came a pause. From the window above 



THE ADVENTURES OP THE HAWK 45 

he heard a rustle of skirts, cautious footsteps, 
then an impatient: "Oh, fudge! Where 
did I put it ? " He volunteered no information, 
and a moment later a blinding flash of light 
shot out the window and went streaming off 
into the darkness. Instinctively The Hawk 
drew closer to the wall, and for one instant 
there was a gripping fear at his heart. 

In the next second he was reassured. A 
head was thrust out of the window, a girl's 
head, curiously diaphanous, effulgent even. 
The oddness of the effect was due to the 
brilliancy of electric lights shining through 
brick-red hair from behind, making a fluffy, 
puffy cloud of head and shoulders. He got 
only a glimpse of her face as she turned. 
Of course she was pretty. He had known 
that from her voice, but here was a vision 
that anchored him in his tracks! In one 
hand she held a small box. 

"Now catch this," she ordered. She was 
staring straight down at him, but the blaze 
of light enveloping her made the gloom where 
he stood more dense. "Put this in your 
pocket and take good care of it. It's my 
jewel case." 

She dropped the box and The Hawk 
grabbed greedily. Jewels! The magic of 



46 MY LADY'S GARTER 

the word broke the witching spell. He 
shook the box inquiringly. Jewels and more 
jewels! 

"Now listen just a minute," the girl 
directed, and the light died as she spoke. 
"The automobile is waiting two blocks away. 
Now, while I'm putting on my coat and veil 
you must sneak down to the stable around 
the corner there and get a ladder. I simply 
can't jump this distance. I'll be ready by the 
time you get back." 

Gallantry is inborn in most of us, like the 
appendix. For a scant instant The Hawk 
felt its spur and was tempted shall I say 
by the melody of the girl's voice and the 
haunting glimpse of her face? was tempted 
to carry out the adventure to the end if for 
no other reason than to get a nearer view of 
Her Loveliness. But cold reason dissipated 
this whim born of a woman's charm. Why 
take idle chances with a kindly Fate? He had 
the jewels; he would hike for the highway 
the restless city of New York beckoned 
him on. 

"Hurry, now!" commanded the girl. 

Useless words! The Hawk ran, vanishing 
an instant later around a corner of the house ; 
ran and ran on, gripping the jewel case in 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 47 

one hand and the Countess of Salisbury's 
garter in the other. An hour later he was 
five miles nearer New York. Tired? Why, 
he never felt so fresh and unfatigued in his 
life! He had stolen a quick look at the con- 
tents of the jewel case, and nearly fainted at 
the multicolored glow therein. 

"HarounalRaschid! Pooh! Pooh!" The 
Hawk remarked to the world at large. "The 
things that have been happening to me would 
make his adventures sound as prosaic as a 
laundry ticket." The skies opened, and fat, 
spattery raindrops pounded on his head. 
"There's nothing to it I have come back!" 
A long silence. ' ' Why, she's a queen ! ' ' 

A pretty girl at a darkened window, gazing 
out into the night with anxious eyes. 

"What could have happened to Skeets?" 
she wondered. "Why doesn't he hurry with 
that ladder? My best hat is simply being 
ruined! 1 ' 



CHAPTER IV 

WHILE all these incredible things were 
happening to The Hawk, Skeets 
Gaunt, his poetic soul in an ecstasy of happi- 
ness, was hastening along to that sweet 
rendezvous which had for its ultimate object 
the making of Helen Hamilton into Mrs. 
Skeets. Catching a glimpse of two men in 
the dark distance, and hearing the rush of 
their footsteps coming toward him through 
the empty street, he withdrew timidly into 
the shadow of a hedge. Ten seconds later he 
was yanked out rudely by four powerful 
hands, and a large revolver was poked under 
his nose. 

"You will make us chase you all over The 
Bronx, will you?" panted one of his captors. 
"Might have known we'd get you." 

Long-haired, dreamy-eyed poets, particu- 
larly if they happen to be sons of men like 
John Gaunt, are not necessarily to be put 
upon. Skeets felt that he was being put 
upon. His first natural impression was that 
he had to do with highwaymen, and without 
hesitation he belted the man who held the 
revolver plumb in the nose. The weapon 

4 8 



49 

went flying. He was about to perform a 
similar office for the other man when the 
steel nippers closed around his wrist and 
were twisted cruelly. 

"You'll resist an officer, too, will you?" 
and the grip on his wrist tightened. "Cut 
it out, or I'll tear your hand off!" 

"What in blazes do you mean by grabbing- 
me like that?" demanded the poet unpoeti- 
cally. "Why didn't you say you were offi- 
cers? What do you want?" 

"You," tersely. 

"What for?" 

" I don't suppose you could even guess, huh ?" 

Skeets wriggled a little to arouse himself. 
He was sound asleep, of course. This thing 
wasn't happening at all. In a minute his 
valet would come and tap on his door to 
say his bath was ready. 

"Search him!" 

Dream or no dream, Skeets raised his voice 
in expostulation when the thick fingers of 
Detective Bailey produced his pocketbook, 
and rifled the bills therein some two thou- 
sand dollars. Detective Cunningham's eyes 
opened wide at sight of the money; and 
reflected a vast understanding when Bailey 
fished out two tickets for Europe. 



50 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"The getaway was all fixed," Bailey eluci- 
dated, "and we know there are two of 'em." 

"What the" Skeets began. 

"Shut up!" 

Bailey placed the pocketbook inside his 
coat, and resumed his search. A gold cigar- 
ette case! He weighed it thoughtfully in 
his hand; worth money, that thing. He 
put that, too, in an inside pocket, and next 
came a diamond necklace, neatly wrapped in 
jeweler's tissue. The eyes of the two detec- 
tives bulged at the exquisite trifle. 

"That isn't it," Bailey remarked. "The 
description says a garter of blue ribbon over- 
laid with shields of gold in which are set 
diamonds and rubies. It has a motto, too: 
'Honey sew-it kwi mall why pen-see!' ' Rather 
proud of his French, was Bailey. 

"It's something, anyhow," Cunningham 
panted, still blowing from his long run. 
Then, to Skeets: "Where did you get this 
necklace?" 

' ' Bought it, replied the poet . ' ' Where did 
you think I got it? Stole it?" 

"That's just what we do think," was the 
comforting response. "It's the most natural 
thing in the world for a young gent who's 
just bought a diamond necklace to try to hide 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 51 

in a hedge when he sees two detectives com- 
ing. " Skeets opened his mouth. " Shut up !" 

"There's nothing else on him, " said Bailey. 
"Of course there wouldn't be. The garter 
is in that vacant house!" 

"The the what?" Skeets ventured. 

"The jeweled garter." 

"Garter?" 

" Garter. G-a-r-double t-e-r ! " 

There was a walk of a mile or more back to 
the vacant house, and for the first time in 
his life Skeets found full vent for that rich 
vocabulary which bedecked his verse. Im- 
partially and exhaustively he anathematized 
the world, the flesh, and the devil, and 
incontinently damned everything an inch 
high, with special reference to the police. 
Twice the detectives paused to stare at him 
in awe and admiration. He used some words 
they didn't know were in the dictionary; and 
some of them weren't ! 

An automobile was standing in front of 
the old mansion. It just happened that 
Skeets noted its number 92 1 88. Around the 
house they went, stopping abruptly at a gruff: 

"Who's there?" 

"Bailey and Cunningham. Anything hap- 
pened?" 



52 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Nothing," replied the third detective, 
Fallen. "Not a sound since you went away. 
Ah, you got him, did you? Well, I must 
say if I ever saw a perfect type of a crook 
he's it!" 

Skeets didn't ask questions now; he was no 
longer curious merely looked on mechani- 
cally during that next hour as the three 
detectives searched the house. From attic 
to cellar they went, scrutinizing every inch 
of it by the light of their electric flashes. 

In one room on the ground floor they 
found an old chair overturned and in the dust 
near by, where The Hawk had groveled, they 
chose to discover signs of a violent struggle. 

"Ah?" said Fallen. 

"Oh!" said Cunningham. 

"Umph!" said Bailey. Then, to Skeets: 
41 There were two of you, we get that. And 
you had some sort of a scrap here, huh? 
Perhaps," a brilliant thought came to 
him, "perhaps the other fellow got the 
garter!" 

On the broad hearth beneath a huge 
marble mantel they found a cigarette stub. 
A Regent it was! Hastily they opened 
Skeets' gold cigarette case filled with Re- 
gents! 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 53 

"Aha!" said Fallen. 

"Oho!" said Cunningham. 

"Uhhuh!" said Bailey. 

Wholly without interest in what they were 
doing, whatever it was, the poet had righted 
the overturned chair and sat motionless 
upon it, his face in his hands, glooming. 
Helen! What would she think? 
Already he was more than an hour late! 
. After awhile these idiots would 
perhaps take him to a police station, and he 
could reach her by 'phone and explain; 
also he might be able to reach his father, and 
arrange things some way. 

Bailey, his arms akimbo, came and stood 
directly in front of him. 

"Where is that garter?" he demanded. 

"Oh, piffle!" said the poet. 

"Who was your accomplice?" 

"Fudge!" 

"You may as well tell us the truth. We 
have all sorts of evidence to connect you 
with the affair. The cigarette stub alone 
would convict you!" 

"Prunes!" Skeets had, long since, run 
out of really useful words. 

Ten minutes later the three detectives went 
back to the police station, wagging Skeets 



54 MY LADY'S GARTER 

behind 'em. Followed a conference of some 
sort, after which Skeets was lined up in 
front of the desk sergeant. 

"Name?" he was asked. 

"Samuel Keats Gaunt." 

"Residence?" 

"Eighty-first Street." 

"Age?" 

"Twenty-seven. " 

"Business?" 

"Poet." 

"Father's name?" 

"John Gaunt." 

"Do you mean John Gaunt, the millionaire 
coal ?" incredulously. 

"The millionaire coal man," Skeets com- 
pleted the sentence eagerly. There was 
something in the sergeant's tone, there was 
something now in the manner of the three 
detectives, that aroused a vague hope in his 
breast. It was the first time in his life 
he had ever been glad to say his father 
was a millionaire. After all, the power of 
money 

"Of course, you see this whole thing, 
whatever it is, is a mistake. I'm the son of 
a millionaire, and you see I'd have no pos- 
sible object in stealing the the garter, was 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 55 

it, that was stolen? I have a very pressing 
engagement, so I'll go now." 

"Oh, you will!" Bailey bawled at Skeets 
suddenly. "You'll go, will you? You, the 
son of John Gaunt? Why, you've just con- 
victed yourself! We've just begun to hold 
you!" He turned to Cunningham and Fal- 
lon. "Don't you see?" he demanded excit- 
edly. "It fits in perfectly with Dexter's 
theory stolen garter American millionaire 
all of it two tickets to Europe father 
and son ready to jump! Say," and he 
whirled upon the desk sergeant, "telephone 
that Scotland Yard man to hike up here, 
quick! Tell him we can get his man in 
twenty minutes!" He thrust his face close 
into that of the poet. "Let you go!" he 
sneered. "Yes, we will!" 

Somehow the promise failed to comfort 
Skeets. Submerged in an ocean of inexpli- 
cable things, he leaned wearily against the 
desk with his head in his hands, his gentle 
soul in an agony at the thought of Helen. 

"Oh, shush!" he murmured at last. It 
was the vilest thing he could think of. 



CHAPTER V 

(A conversation over the telephone between 

S. Keats Gaunt and his father.) 

" TTELLO, father. This is Keats." 

11 "Well, what do you want? What 
do you mean by getting me out of bed at 
midnight to " 

"I'm a prisoner up in The Bronx." 

"Speeding again, eh? Serves you right. 
What are you worrying me about it for, 
anyway?" 

"Not speeding, father. I'm charged with 
theft this time." 

"Theft? You? What the devil are you 
talking about?" 

"I'm accused of stealing a lady's garter." 

"A lady's what?" 

"Garter garter you know, the thing 
they use to hold up well, anyway " 

"Great Scott! Whose garter? What 
garter?" 

"I don't know. It seems to have been a 
jeweled affair of some sort; and they say 
it's worth twenty or twenty-five thousand 
dollars. I'm accused of stealing it." 

56 



57 

"Jumping crab apples! I've heard of men 
stealing money, and horses, and red-hot 
stoves, but I'm darned if I ever heard of a 
man stealing a lady's er whatyoumaycall- 
it! Did you steal it?" 

"Certainly not!" 

"Did you tell 'em you didn't?" 

"Yes." 

"And did you tell 'em you were my son?" 

"Yes. That seemed to make it worse, 
if anything. They refuse to believe anything 
I say except that I am your son. They 
believe that readily enough. And they won't 
tell me anything about anything. Can't 
you run up here right away and arrange bail 
or something, somehow?" 

"A lady's ! Wha-wha-what happened, 
anyway?" 

"Nothing particularly. I was just going 
along the street a while ago it was about 
eleven o'clock when two men placed me 
under arrest, and searched me, and took me 
to a vacant house and searched that; and 
then brought me here to the police station. 
I don't know what to do. " 

"Stealing! You! You say you told 'em 
you were my son?" 

"Yes." 



58 MY LADY'S GARTER 

14 The idiots!" 

"I told 'em that, too. When I mentioned 
your name it seemed to convince them I did 
steal it. Now if you could run up here 
immediately ' ' 

"Where are you now?" 

"In the police station." 

"Well, you stay right there until I come." 

"I will." 

"And by the way, what are you doing up 
in The Bronx at this time of night?" 

A pause. 

"I say what are you doing up 
in The Bronx at this time of 
night?" 

"Well er I came up about er a 
little affair of my my own. " 

"Affair of your own, eh? Brokaw Hamil- 
ton lives up there somewhere, doesn't he? 
Oh, yes he does, too! So that's it? You've 
been calling on that red-headed daughter of 
his! Yes, you have! Don't argue with me! 
I won't have it!" 

"Father, I give you my word of honor I 
haven't seen Helen to-night. If you could 
come up " 

"Oh, well, in that case! I'll be along in a 
little while." 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 59 

(A conversation over the telephone between 
S. Keats Gaunt and Helen Hamilton.) 

"Is is that you, Helen?" 

"Yes." 

"This is Keats." 

"Well, for goodness sake! What became 
of you? Where've you been? I've been 
waiting and waiting and waiting! Where 
are you now?" 

"Locked up in a police station." 

"Skeets Gaunt! Locked up in ! What 
are you talking about?" 

"That's why I didn't come. I was on my 
way " 

" Why are you locked up?" 

"I'm accused of stealing a lady's garter, 
and" 

" Why Skeets Gaunt!" 

"I didn't, darling; I didn't. I don't know 
a thing about it. Please, now, listen just a 
minute, and I'll " 

' ' I never heard of such a thing ! A lady's ' ' 

"Just a moment, sweetheart. Let me 
explain." 

"What were you doing with the with 
it?" 

"I didn't have it. I haven't it now. I 
don't know a thing about it. I never saw 



60 MY LADY'S GARTER 

it. When they searched me all they found 
was a diamond necklace I had bought for 
you. You see " 

"If you didn't have the 'the it, why 
were you arrested?" 

"It's a mistake, dearest. They thought I 
stole it, so they " 

"Well, it seems very strange to me that 
they should arrest you if you didn't have 
some connection with it." 

"But, darling, you don't think " 

"I don't think any one would be so stupid 
as to arrest a perfectly innocent man for a 
thing like that! Whose was it?" 

"I don't know. It's" 

"Stole a lady's er garter, and you don't 
know whose? Indeed! Where did they catch 
you?" 

"In the street just a block from your house. 
I was on my way " 

"And pray what were you doing in the 
street a block off? I didn't send you out 
for a promenade. I sent you to the barn 
for a ladder." 

"Ladder? What ladder?" 

"So I could come down from my window, 
of course. And instead of getting the ladder 
and coming straight back you leave my bag 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 61 

and my best hat on the damp ground and go 
out for a stroll!" 

"I haven't the faintest idea what " 

"It wouldn't surprise me a bit if you did 
steal the the thing! And when you were 
arrested what did you do with my jewels, 
pray? Are they still in your pocket?" 

" Your jewels? I haven't seen them." 

"Do you mean to deny that I dropped 
them to you out of my window, and asked 
you to put them in your pocket?" 

"I don't know what" 

"A lady's garter ! I'll trouble you to 
return my jewels immediately." 

"But, Helen, I" 

"Also, I've changed my mind about every- 
thing else. I won't elope with you at 
all. I'm glad I found you out in time. 
Indeed, I am!" 

"But, dear heart " 

"And we will dispense with all that mush, 
if you please. You will return my jewels 
to me immediately. I think that is all. 
Good-by, forever!" 

"But you didn't give me your jewels. I 
haven't seen them." 

" Why Sheets Gaunt!" 

"And you never spoke to me in your life 

t 



62 MY LADY'S GARTER 

about a ladder; and I don't know anything 
about your bag, and your best hat on the 
damp ground, and going out for a promenade. 
And you certainly didn't give me your jewels 
and ask me to put them in my pocket." 

"I did!" 

"You didn't!" 

"Did!" 

"Didn't!" 

"Did!" 

"Oh, dammit!" 

1 ' Skee-ee-eets Gaunt ! ' ' 



i 



CHAPTER VI 

NDIGNANT beyond the power of speech, 
Helen banged the receiver of the telephone 
into place, and turned, to find herself facing 
her father. He stood in the doorway, motion- 
less, white, haggard; he wore an automobile 
cap and raincoat, both dripping water. In- 
stantly on the defensive, the girl glared at him 
rebelliously for a moment, then started out. 

" I heard your conversation, " he remarked. 

"I don't care if you did!" she flashed, 
pausing, her cheeks aflame with anger. "I 
don't care!" 

Silently her father laid aside his wet outer 
garments and extended his arms toward her. 
After a moment she crept into them, her lips 
quivering, and tears starting in her eyes. 
She winked them back savagely, and then 
the deluge. With no word of comfort, nor 
yet a word of reproof, Brokaw Hamilton 
stood with set face, holding the slender, 
trembling figure for a long time, until at last 
the storm passed and his daughter lay still. 

"I did love him," she burst out passion- 
ately, "and when you wouldn't give your 
consent it broke my heart and I was going 

63 



64 MY LADY'S GARTER 

to elope with him. He came under my win- 
dow about eleven o'clock, and I dropped down 
my bag to him and my Jew-jewels, and my 
bub-bub-best hat. And now he says I didn't 
give him the jew- jewels at all; and it's rain- 
ing cats and dogs, and my bub-bub-best hat 
is out there on the ground getting wet." 

Tenderly, apparently in deep preoccupa- 
tion, her father stroked her rebellious hair. 
"Red as a geranium," she had said. 'Twas 
red, but it was the rich redness of the dying 
sun. . . . How came Skeets Gaunt 
entangled in this affair of the jeweled garter? 

"I just hate him and his old pup-pup- 
poetry," Helen sobbed on fiercely. " 'O 
Helen, thy hair is an aura of ' Fiddle- 
sticks! And, Pops, he said 'Dammit' at me 
right there, just a second ago. And he has 
my jewels, and he won't give them up; and 
he has stolen somebody's gar-gar-garter; and 
he's locked up in a cell, and I'm glad of it 
so there! Horrid thing! I hope he never 
gets out!" 

"Knowing my objections, still you were 
going to marry him?" asked Brokaw Hamil- 
ton. 

"Yes, I was," belligerently. 

"And you love him so much? " 



THE ADVENTURES OP THE HAWK 65 

"I don't love him at all, now! I I hate 
him! I wouldn't marry him, Pops, I wouldn't 
marry him if he was the last man on earth." 

Tenderness passed from her father's eyes, 
and instead a flame glowed there. It was 
the old hatred of John Gaunt, and John 
Gaunt's son, and all that was John Gaunt's! 

When he spoke his voice was quiet, as before. 

"Your mother, of course, was not in your 
confidence?" 

"Mother?" Helen gasped. "No!" 

"Well, we won't say anything about any- 
thing to her either of us. This will be our 
secret." He gathered the girl close, close 
in his arms, and stared into the fathomless 
blue eyes. "And it's all over now, isn't it?" 

With her white teeth closed tightly on her 
trembling under lip, Helen nodded vigorously, 
then in a quick rush of emotion kissed her 
father. For a long time he stood staring into 
nothingness; suddenly his manner changed. 

"You dropped your jewels out the window 
to him?" 

"Yes, and told him to put them in his 
pocket. Now he has the the unspeakable 
nerve to say I didn't give them to him at 
all." 

"There is some misunderstanding here, of 

5 



66 MY LADY'S GARTER 

course," he assured her. "I'll run over to the 
police station and see what can be done. 
Young Gaunt can't be a thief." 

"But, Pops, he's arrested for stealing a a 
he's arrested already." 

"Some misunderstanding," he repeated 
abstractedly. "Off to bed with you now, 
girlie; I'll see what can be done." 

"Good night!" She slid out of his arms 
and went trailing up the stairs. He watched 
her until she turned at the top and blew him 
a kiss, then stepped into the hall and spoke 
to a gaping footman, Dawkins. 

"Order the limousine, at once," he 
directed. 

Dawkins vanished noiselessly. In addition 
to utter weariness there was bewilderment in 
Brokaw Hamilton's face as he passed into 
the dining room, and poured out a stiff glass 
of whisky. Abstractedly he gazed into the 
amber depths for a moment, and then: 

"It may be, after all, that a marriage of 
the daughter of the house of Hamilton to 
the son of the house of Gaunt is the thing 
most to be desired. ... In the end it 
would make me the financial king of America; 
his fortune and mine together! . . . But 
I can't imagine how young Gaunt came to be 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 67 

under arrest for stealing the Countess of 
Salisbury's garter!" 

Two famous enemies in the money world 
came face to face when John Gaunt and 
Brokaw Hamilton met in the police station. 
John Gaunt, in his masterful way, had 
bullied the story of the attempted elopement 
out of poor Skeets, and was consequently in 
a rage. Then, too, he had been made to 
feel uncomfortable under the curious scru- 
tiny of the desk sergeant, and of Bailey, and 
Cunningham, and Fallen. Another man 
was there as well, a close-mouthed, English- 
looking person Dexter, they called him 
with eyes like gimlets; and there was sheer 
insolence in the way he looked the million- 
aire over. 

Brokaw Hamilton came in, calm, cold as 
marble, and as white. He faced John Gaunt 
unemotionally, with a slight, disdainful uplift 
of the corners of his mouth. It was the crafty 
collie sneering at the giant mastiff ! 

The desk sergeant recognized Mr. Hamilton 
and nodded obsequiously. 

"I understand a young man, Samuel Keats 
Gaunt, is under arrest here?" Brokaw Hamil- 
ton began. 



68 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Yes, sir," was the courteous reply. "He 
is charged with the theft of a jeweled 
garter." 

"I don't care anything about that," said 
the railroad magnate impatiently. "Was he 
searched when he was brought in?" 

"He has been searched, yes." 

"Any jewels found on him?" 

1 ' Not the garter, sir. There was a diamond 
necklace, but we don't know who he stole 
that from." 

John Gaunt went off with a roar like a 
thirteen-inch gun. Mr. Hamilton glanced 
around at him as if astonished, then turned 
back to the sergeant. 

"After his arrest he would have had no 
opportunity to conceal a jewel case any- 
where?" he continued placidly. 

" No, " was the emphatic response. "Why 
do you ask? Do you suspect him?" 

John Gaunt strode forward and planted 
himself directly in front of his old enemy. 
Flames of anger blazed in his eyes; his 
mighty fists were clenched. 

"What is it you want?" he demanded 
abruptly. "No business of yours, is it? 
Why are you butting in? Isn't it enough 
that your daughter tried to " 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 69 

"That will do," Mr. Hamilton inter- 
rupted quietly. 

" that your daughter would have " 

"That will do, I said!" Mr. Hamilton 
repeated. His tone was still quiet, but there 
was danger in the very velvet of it. "We 
are not a couple of longshoremen, you know, 
to stand here and swap Billingsgate. Fifty 
thousand dollars' worth of jewels belonging to 
my daughter have been stolen. I'm trying 
to find them." 

The effect of the statement upon the desk 
sergeant and the detectives was electrical. 
Even the English-looking person was stirred 
to speech. 

"By Jove, you know!" he said. 

"And I suppose you're going to say that 
my son my son stole them, eh?" John 
Gaunt sneered. 

Brokaw Hamilton's eyes narrowed, and a 
faint flush mounted to his pallid face. For 
perhaps a minute there was tense silence, the 
detectives waiting, waiting, for what they 
didn't know, the two millionaires staring 
straight into each other's eyes. Finally, 
Brokaw Hamilton's gaze shifted to the desk 
sergeant. 

"I want to add a charge to the charge that 



70 MY LADY'S GARTER 

already stands against Samuel Keats Gaunt, " 
he said coldly. " I charge him with the theft, 
to-night, within the last hour, of fifty thousand 
dollars' worth of jewels belonging to my 
daughter!" 

Science tells us that two loud noises will 
sometimes make silence. That must have 
been what was the matter with John Gaunt. 
Two bellows of indignant amazement tried 
to escape at once with the result that he was 
perfectly dumb dumb with his mouth open. 

"My daughter, Helen," Hamilton's voice 
flowed on levelly, "gave them into his keep- 
ing. Now, I understand he denies it. There 
can only be one conclusion he stole them. " 

John Gaunt's face went purple; spasmodi- 
cally he reached forward to take this man by 
the throat. Sheer will power brought control. 

"Sergeant, if you'll send a couple of your 
men home with me," Mr. Hamilton went on 
serenely, "my daughter will be pleased to 
give them all the necessary details. And, 
by the way, that diamond necklace you found 
on the prisoner can't be my daughter's 
property. She doesn't own one. Goodnight." 

The door opened and closed; he was gone. 
Trailing after him went detectives Cunning- 
ham and Fallen. 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 71 

A minute later John Gaunt, too, went out. 
Detective Bailey glanced quickly, interroga- 
tively, at Dexter as John Gaunt moved 
toward the door, and Dexter had nodded. 
In the tumult of rage which possessed him, the 
millionaire coal man had forgotten all about 
poor Skeets, tucked away in a cell with ear 
pressed to the steel bars, hopefully waiting. 

"He won't run away, of course," Dexter 
remarked in his heavy English way, "and. 
besides, we've nothing to hold him on yet. 
You know we're conducting this case like 
a lot of bally asses what? We do these 
things better in Scotland Yard, you know. 
We don't stand on the housetops and shout 
about everything we learn as you chaps seem 
to do over here." 

John Gaunt's automobile swung away into 
the night in a torrent of rain. 

"Brokaw Hamilton knows perfectly well 
Sammy didn't steal any jewels," he informed 
the outer darkness with a graceful touch 
of profanity here and there. "He simply 
couldn't resist the temptation to poke it into 
me. " A long silence. " Probably thinks that 
red-headed daughter of his is too good for my 
son ! If I thought he really thought that I'd 
I'd hang it, I'd make Sammy marry her, 



72 MY LADY'S GARTER 

just to spite him ! ' ' Another silence. ' ' Might 
not be a bad idea at that! If they should 
many! His fortune and mine! I'd be the 
financial boss of the earth! Look out there!" 

This last as the automobile skidded and 
went sliding across the slushy road toward a 
foot traveler who was plodding along in the 
rain. Agility alone saved him from injury. 
It was The Hawk! 

It was after two o'clock when Brokaw 
Hamilton retired to his room. The detec- 
tives had gone and Helen's turbulent heart 
had found peace in sleep. 

"Helen loves young Gaunt, therefore she 
would be as happy with him as with any one 
else." Business of donning pajamas. "Be- 
sides insuring her happiness I'd place myself 
in a position to ! Say, John Gaunt is worth 
a hundred millions; and he's a child! I 
could get that! And if I don't, some one 
else will!" Business of crawling into bed. 
"It may have been a bad beginning to accuse 
young Gaunt of stealing those jewels, but 
Perhaps not!" Business of closing his eyes. 
"How can that young idiot know anything 
about this affair of the Countess of Salisbury's 
garter? I'll have to have my own detective 
on this!" 



CHAPTER VII 

SKEETS GAUNT is safe in his cell and 
he will keep or be kept, to state it 
more accurately. So let's away from the 
vagaries of night and the mysteries that lie 
in the pall of it. Let's take Broadway at 
eight o'clock of a sunny morning in June. 
The sidewalks, drenched by the heavy rains 
of the night before, are glistening spotlessly 
beneath the million-footed human creature 
which is hurrying here, there, everywhere to 
the pursuits of the day; the street is an 
endless, counter-flowing stream of vehicles 
divided mathematically by the car tracks. 

Here we are at Forty-second Street. Let's 
pause a minute to watch the tides of humanity 
from east and west swirl into unique Broad- 
way to be swallowed up in the vaster stream 
which flows forever north and south. A 
mottled current it is, burdened with the flot- 
sam and jetsam of the world bankers and 
beggars, and brokers and stokers; newsboys 
and venders, and street-crossing tenders; 
hook-nosed and snub, honest men and thieves. 
The ever-flowing stream ripples on, borrowing 
a dash of color from the bright gowns and 

73 



74 MY LADY'S GARTER 

gossamer millinery of the shop girls. In no> 
city in the world is the shop girl so well 
dressed as in New York. 

Somewhere in this hurrying, jostling crowd 
is The Hawk. Ah, there he is, scrubby of 
beard, pallid of face, worn and weary, but 
for all that there is a glint of satisfaction 
in his shallow eyes. A hard night he has had 
of it, evidently a night in the rain, for his 
threadbare coat is still wet, and there is a 
disheartening squashiness in his tattered shoes. 
He is hungry, too, in spite of the fact that 
his shabby pockets hold a fortune of seventy- 
five thousand dollars, more or less, in other 
people's jewels. 

Six years it had been since The Hawk had 
seen Broadway six long, meager years and 
now he reveled in the sight of it. His destina- 
tion was Daddy Heinz' in West Thirtieth 
Street; and Daddy Heinz' was a sanctuary 
where he would find breakfast, and a bath, 
and clean linen, and a bed. The nearest 
route to all these luxuries was down Seventh 
Avenue, but The Hawk didn't go that way. 
Instead, he stuck to Broadway; there was so 
much of it new to him. Good old Broadway! 
The smell of it got up his nose. It was 
worth while living, if one might live here! 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 75 

So, on down Broadway he went, past the 
yawning entrance of the Metropolitan Opera 
House, past the Marlborough, past the Herald 
Building. At Thirty-fourth Street he paused 
suddenly with quick interest, and stared. 
A girl had attracted his attention a red- 
headed girl! Something in the way the 
brilliant sunlight struck her hair reminded 
him of the vision in the window the night 
before Her Loveliness! and he stopped 
to look after her until she was swallowed up 
in the crowd. He knew it couldn't be the 
same ; he was merely humoring a recollection. 

Woman, and the lure of her, had never 
entered into The Hawk's scheme of existence. 
He had regarded her merely as a sort of 
subliminated clotheshorse, much given to 
the vain adorning of her white body with 
ribbons and laces and fluffy things and 
jewels! There's where his interest in women 
had always begun and ended at the jewels. 
But "in the spring a young man's fancy" 
and all the rest of it; and it was June. For 
no reason apparent to himself The Hawk 
realized all at once that now he was regarding 
woman from a different angle. This new 
point of view had been born at that instant 
when, crouching against a wall in the darkness, 



76 MY LADY'S GARTER 

he had caught one glimpse only one! of 
her whom he was pleased to think of as Her 
Loveliness! A wonderful night it had been, 
truly a night filled with all the delightful 
irresponsibilities of a fairy tale. Ah, me! 

But hunger pressed; eyes smarted from 
lack of sleep; limbs trembled with weariness. 
Turning suddenly, The Hawk continued 
straight on down Broadway to Thirtieth 
Street, where he steered west. Beyond Sixth 
Avenue, where two great green lamps squatted 
on their supports, was the new Tenderloin 
Police Station. It was The Hawk's first 
sight of it; a decided improvement on the 
old one. There were men inside, among 
them probably Detective Meredith, who 
would have given five years of their lives to 
lay hands on The Hawk. The Hawk knew 
it; so he smiled pleasantly. 

Across Sixth Avenue, under the "L" he 
went on, silently appreciative of the roar of 
good old New York. While he was still a 
hundred feet or so away from the sinister 
front of the police station the door opened, 
and Detective Meredith came out! Detec- 
tive Meredith! The Hawk's nearest, dearest, 
most intimate enemy! A dozen times they 
had matched their wit each against the other 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 77 

in the old days, and at the end Meredith had 
been one of the best young yelpers in that 
pack of the law's bloodhounds that had 
chased The Hawk into oblivion. 

The Hawk was glad to see Meredith. He 
would have liked to go up and introduce 
himself, and shake hands with him. It was 
the first familiar face he had seen. Yet if 
there was one man in the world he had to 
fear it was Detective Meredith. And now 
The Hawk felt there was no need to invite 
disaster. Despite the great change in his 
own appearance, despite the time that had 
elapsed since his vanishing, The Hawk knew 
that discretion was the better part of valor. 

Already he had turned back toward Sixth 
Avenue when he saw a huge limousine swing 
around the corner and pull up in front of the 
police station. It stopped, and a middle- 
aged man alighted. He was followed imme- 
diately by a girl. When The Hawk saw her 
his heart stood still. It was Her Loveliness 
the girl of the window! He knew by the 
tilt of her head, by the radiance of her 
brick-red hair intuitively he knew her. She 
had come with her father, of course, to con- 
sult Meredith, the best of the metropolitan 
detectives, in connection with the loss of 



78 

her jewels, the jewels he carried now in one 
of his shabby pockets. 

There is a distinct difference between dare- 
deviltry and bravery. The dare-devil is he 
who doesn't realize a danger; the brave man 
is he who faces a known peril. The Hawk, 
knowing his peril, knowing he risked that 
liberty he had taken such pains to assure; 
knowing that the keen eyes of Meredith 
were not to be trifled with knowing all these 
things, he turned his back on Sixth Avenue 
and slouched on unsteadily toward the police 
station. It was the lure of woman that led 
him, the desire to hear her voice again, to 
see her at close range in broad daylight. 
Perchance she would smile, and that would 
be worth all the risk; perhaps some definite 
idea nickered through his mind and his lips 
curled curiously. 

Brokaw Hamilton, his daughter, and Detec- 
tive Meredith stood on the police-station 
steps in earnest conversation. Obviously 
they were waiting for some one. Came 
along a drooping, weary-eyed, bedraggled, 
unshaven, whining creature, with trembling, 
outstretched hand. 

"Please, gentlemen lady," he croaked, 
"a few pennies to save me from starving." 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 79 

"Go on, now!" ordered the detective. 
"'Get out of this." 

"I beg pardon, sir," whined The Hawk. 
41 1 thought perhaps " 

"Well, for a beggar you have got a nerve, " 
Meredith declared sharply. Many truths 
are spoken in jest; and many more in igno- 
rance. "Begging at a police station! Go on 
fade away up an alley!" 

"Why, sir, is this a police station?" The 
Hawk queried in humble amazement. 

"What does it look like? A candy store? 
Beat it on your way!" 

The Hawk's shallow eyes met those of the 
girl eagerly, greedily. They were blue, blue, 
blue the blue of a moon-lit sky; compas- 
sionate, sympathetic just such eyes as he 
had known she would have. Her hand 
moved toward her pocketbook. 

"Don't give him anything, Miss Ham- 
ilton," advised the detective. "It only 
encourages 'em." 

"But the poor fellow may actually be 
hungry," Helen protested. "He looks hun- 
gry." 

"I am, Miss," The Hawk assured her; 
which statement, at least, possessed the merit 
of truth. 



8o MY LADY'S GARTER 

Helen produced a coin and dropped it 
into his palm; and The Hawk shot a quick^ 
curious glance at his old-time enemy. 

"On your way," Meredith commanded. 
"You've got it. And look here, young fel- 
low, see that you keep away from police 
stations. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"What are you grinning about?" 

"Was I grinning, sir?" 

A uniformed man came out of the station 
house and spoke to Meredith, after which the 
little party entered the building. Twice on 
his way west in Thirtieth Street The Hawk 
stopped and laughed. Once, it was a laugh 
of sheer joy he had seen Her Loveliness 
again; he held tightly clutched in one hand 
the half dollar she had given him; and most 
marvelous of all, her eyes were blue, blue, 
blue! And once he laughed because he had 
outfaced his dearest enemy. If he had ever 
feared Meredith that fear was gone now. 
Meredith was beginning the search for the 
missing jewels, and here they had been under 
his hand, in possession of a man whom he 
had sought the world over. And the fact 
that Meredith had just ordered him to keep 
away from police stations appealed to The 




Page 8s 

" '// that isn'l one of the diamonds from the Countess of Salisbury's 
garter, I'll eat it ' ' 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 81 

Hawk's sense of humor. It would be almost 
worth while to go up to Meredith and intro- 
duce himself, just to see the expression on his 
face! 

Ten minutes later The Hawk, apparently 
on familiar ground, inserted a curiously 
fashioned key into the lock of a door and 
tried it tentatively. It worked, and he slid 
through, conscious instantly of the fact that 
the opening of the door had sounded an 
electric buzz somewhere in the rear. Along 
the hall he went, certain of his way, turning 
into a room at his left. It was bare, save for 
a decrepit chair or table here and there, and 
a vividly green sofa in a corner. A singular 
odor pervaded the place, a sort of mustiness 
that one always associates with antique 
shops. 

Perhaps a minute passed, then from the 
back came Daddy Heinz, the most adroit 
"fence" and generally accomplished old crook 
New York ever sheltered. He was bent, 
hook-nosed, bearded, evil-eyed; the tattered 
dressing gown he wore dragged at his heels. 
He tottered into the room, peering about 
him expectantly. At length his gaze settled 
on The Hawk, reflecting the vague fear which 
an unfamiliar face always inspired. 



82 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Well, Daddy?" greeted The Hawk. 
"Don't you know me?" 

For a space longer the old man stared. 
Some chord of memory vibrated at the sound 
of the voice. Finally, incredulously: 

"The Hawk!" 

"You got me." 

"The Hawk!" the old man mumbled, and 
one shriveled hand grasped the younger 
man's. "I'm glad to see you, boy. I had 
heard that you were dead. Where have you 
been? Where do you come from now? The 
Hawk!" A golden vision opened up before 
the fading eyes. "The Hawk back in New 
York!" 

"Back in New York. ' ' The Hawk laughed 
charmingly. "I'm sorry I didn't have time 
to tell you good-by six years ago, but I was 
in a hurry." 

Daddy Heinz' thin lips writhed into a smile 
and he rubbed his hands together greedily. 
Magnificent coups there had been in the old 
days when The Hawk had been at his best; 
and luscious profits to share between them. 
And now The Hawk was back! His evil 
old heart warmed at the promise of pros- 
perity ahead. The Hawk's whole manner 
changed. 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 83 

"Anybody at all in the house?" 

"No." 

"Well, nobody nobody, you understand 
must know I'm here, that I'm back 
in New York, that I'm even alive. You 
heard I was dead. Let me stay dead. Now 
listen a minute. I'm all in. I haven't 
slept for thirty-six hours, and I walked eigh- 
teen miles in all that rain last night. First, 
I want breakfast. I'll take a plunge while 
you're fixing it. Then I want sleep lots 
of it. And while I'm sleeping look here a 
moment." 

From the depths of a pocket he produced 
a small crumpled-up paper and unfolding it 
displayed a diamond a single unset stone. 
Daddy Heinz' eyes glittered as he stretched 
out a bony, grasping hand for it; and as he 
twisted and turned it in his fingers there came 
a startled, wondering expression into his face. 

"That stone is nearly five carats," The 
Hawk told him crisply. He either didn't 
see or chose not to notice anything strange 
in the old man's manner. "It's blue white 
and beautifully cut. It's worth somewhere 
between two and three thousand dollars at 
the least." 

"Where where did you get it?" Daddy 



84 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Heinz quavered. There was an undercurrent 
of excitement in his manner. 

"Why?" demanded The Hawk abruptly. 
"What does it matter?" 

"Nothing only only it's clean, is it?" 

"You know it's clean," replied The Hawk. 
"I don't kill people; I merely steal. Why 
did you ask that?" 

"No reason at all," the old man hastened 
to assure him. "It's such a beautiful stone, 
that's all. I was wondering; and I wouldn't 
handle a stone of that size if it had blood 
on it." 

Whatever emotion had swayed him it was 
all gone now, hidden behind a venerable 
mask of dissimulation. For half a minute 
The Hawk continued to stare at him curi- 
ously, then: 

"While I'm asleep I want you to do some 
things for me," he directed tersely. "I 
want clothes good clothes the clothes of 
a gentleman everything from shoes to hats. 
I want money a thousand dollars in cash 
at least, and during the next ten days I'll 
want more of it, bunches of it. I've ample 
security. That's all now. And remember, 
Daddy, The Hawk is dead; deader than you 
ever thought he could be. Now hustle me 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 85 

up a beefsteak about as big as that table 
top. Me for the bathtub." He turned 
toward the door, on his way upstairs. "Oh, 
let me see your gun a minute." 

From the voluminous folds of his anti- 
quated dressing gown Daddy Heinz pro- 
duced a revolver. 

The Hawk spun the barrel in his fingers, 
and examined the priming. 

"Thanks," he said. "I'll keep it." 

The Hawk slept, and sleeping, dreamed. 
He was crouching close against a wall in the 
dark, and the most beautiful woman in the 
world was emptying a hat box of diamonds 
over his head. . . . On a table beside 
his bed the revolver lay, cocked. Of such a 
breed as this was his faith in Daddy Heinz! 

Meanwhile that venerable old crook, with 
a magnifying glass screwed into one of his 
evil eyes, was turning and twisting the unset 
diamond in his claw-like ringers. 

"If," he remarked after a long silence, 
"if that isn't one of the diamonds from the 
Countess of Salisbury's garter I'll eat it." 
He cackled dryly. "But how did it fall 
into the hands of The Hawk? I wonder 
I wonder if Brokaw Hamilton could have ?'* 



CHAPTER VIII 

WHILE The Hawk was catching up on 
his beauty sleep two mighty forces 
were actively, albeit unconsciously, at work 
lightening the clouds which had curdled the 
happiness of Skeets Gaunt. These two forces 
were the police and the press. 

Brokaw Hamilton needed only one glimpse 
of the afternoon newspapers to convince him 
that he had set in motion an avalanche of 
notoriety about the ears of his daughter. 
He himself didn't mind an avalanche or two 
he was used to them; but he was annoyed 
on her account. It may have been, too, that 
vague considerations growing out of his 
newborn wish to control the Gaunt millions 
influenced him when he withdrew the absurd 
charge of theft he had made against Skeets. 

"Why did you withdraw it?" demanded 
the ubiquitous newspaper reporter. 

"The jewels have been found," was the 
reply. 

"Where?" 

"Really, it was of no consequence," et 
cetera. 

"When?" 

86 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 87 

"The public had no interest," et cetera. 

"Who had 'em?" 

"No good end would be served, " et cetera. 

"Let's see 'em." 

"Really, he must decline," et cetera. 

Even newspaper reporters don't believe 
all they hear. In the beginning they had 
been asked to swallow a yarn to the effect 
that S. Keats Gaunt, son of a millionaire, a 
semi-famous poet rich in his own right, had 
led Helen Hamilton, sole heiress of another 
millionaire, to think he was going to elope 
with her, all this with the one purpose 
of stealing her jewels, worth a paltry fifty 
thousand dollars. Credulity balked at that. 
Now came Brokaw Hamilton's bald statement 
that the jewels had been found; and coupled 
therewith was a refusal to say when or where ; 
also a refusal to produce them. 

Mr. Hamilton was surprised, amazed! 
Why, gentlemen, did not the press believe 
his statement? No, the press did not. 
Pooh! Pooh! sneered the press. This last 
yarn was worse than the first. So the ava- 
lanche thundered on. 

Possibly the crux of the thing lay in that 
jeweled garter! Investigation along this line 
brought the newspaper men up against a 



88 MY LADY'S GARTER 

stone wall of reticence. Whose garter was 
it? No one would say. From whom had 
it been stolen? Same answer. When? 
Ditto. Where? Likewise. How? Also. 
Why had Skeets Gaunt been arrested for the 
theft? Echo answered, "Why?" Detec- 
tive Meredith, now in charge of the case, 
looked as wise as a dog who has just hidden 
a bone, and said nothing! His assistants 
were equally voluble. 

At just about this point the press discov- 
ered an English-looking person who seemed 
to be loitering around in the background of 
the mystery. Some one discovered that his 
name was Dexter. Who was he? How did 
he figure in it, if at all? Did he know any- 
thing about anything? Really, old chaps, 
he didn't have a blessed word to say, you 
know! A jolly inquisitive lot they were, to 
be sure! So these were American reporters! 
His word! He'd have to drop a line to The 
Times about it, eh, what? 

Remained to the press one lonely crumb 
of consolation. When Skeets Gaunt came 
to be arraigned in police court for a prelimi- 
nary hearing the charges against him would 
have to be made specific. All this secrecy 
and fiddle-f oddle would have to make way for 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 89 

cold facts. Knowing this, the newspaper men 
possessed their souls in comparative patience. 

But Skeets Gaunt was not arraigned in 
police court. The charge of the theft of the 
garter was mysteriously withdrawn! The 
incident was closed. By the time the report- 
ers discovered this, Skeets had been released 
and had gone his way. 

Thus the situation at three o'clock on the 
day following the poet's arrest. John Gaunt, 
in his office, was absorbing all these details 
from a very extra special extra midnight 
extra edition of an extra afternoon newspaper, 
when the door opened and Skeets himself 
strode in, his poetic eye rolling in fine frenzy; 
and it wasn't the frenzy of genius, either! 
His father swung around in his swivel chair 
and scowled at him. 

"I've just had a conversation over the 
telephone with Brokaw Hamilton," John 
Gaunt began without preliminary. 

"I don't care," Skeets raged. "That 
isn't what I want to talk about. You left 
me in that cell all last night and to-day, and " 

"Now, Sammy, keep your shirt on. I " 

"Not Sammy, please, father." 

"Samuel, then." It was a concession. 
The poet was made to feel that it was. 



go MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Now, don't disarrange your linen while I 
talk to you a minute. I've just had a con- 
versation " 

"You could have put up a cash bond, 
and" 

"I've just had a conversation over the 
telephone with Brokaw Hamilton," John 
Gaunt repeated, doggedly. "He called me a 
coal heaver. A coal heaver! Do you under- 
stand that?" 

"You could have put up a cash " 

"He said he had objected to his daughter's 
marriage to you just as he would have 
objected to her marriage to the son of any 
other coal heaver, meaning me." 

"You could have put up " 

"Now, Sammy " 

"Not Sammy, please, father!" 

"I beg your pardon Samuel. He called 
you the son of a coal heaver!" 

"You could have put up " 

"In othei words, you're not good enough 
for that red-headed, turned-up-nose daughter 
of his. You! Do you get that? Gaunt 
blood isn't good enough!" 

"You could have put up " The phrase 
came monotonously, truculently, like the 
breaking of angry waves against rocks. 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 91 

"Now it's up to us me and you it's a 
debt we owe ourselves to pay him for his 
insolence. Not good enough ! A coal heaver ! 
Gaunt blood not good enough ! Now, 
Sammy " 

"Not Sammy, please, father!" 

"Samuel," John Gaunt corrected himself 
graciously. "Keats, my son," he flattered, 
"the Gaunts always pay their debts; we'll 
pay this." He tilted back in his swivel 
chair and regarded the poet shrewdly. " You 
know some day, Sammy Keats! some day 
I'm going to die, and when I do there'll be 
several million dollars that I won't be able 
to take along with me. Would you like 
to have those millions?" 

"You could have put up some of 'em " 

"Or," John Gaunt pursued evenly, "or 
would you prefer that I give those millions 
to establish a fund for the purpose of buying 
pajamas and standing collars for the Fiji 
Islanders? I'm making a proposition. Do 
you get me?" 

"You could have put up " 

"Hamilton says Gaunt blood isn't good 
enough. You can get those millions in one 
way, and only one way! You can get them 
by marrying Helen Hamilton!" 



92 MY LADY'S GARTER 

The poet's angry heart was stilled for an 
instant with joy! Helen! Had he heard 
aright? Was his father now consenting to 
that alliance against which he had raised 
such thunderous objections? 

"Father!" It was all he could say. 

" Not a word ! I won't listen ! That's the 
proposition. Take it or leave it. You marry 
Helen Hamilton and you get my millions, 
and perhaps some of his along with 'em; if 
you don't marry her, then it's pajamas and 
high collars for the Fiji Islanders. Gaunt 
blood not good enough, eh? I'm a coal 
heaver, am I? You're the son of a coal 
heaver, are you? Well, we'll just introduce 
a dash of coal heaver's blood into his family 
and see how he likes it!" 

"Do I understand that, after all, I may 
marry Helen?" Skeets' voice was tremulous 
with emotion. 

11 May?" roared John Gaunt. Why, 
dammit, you've got to! And not a word of 
objection out of you; no, not a word! I 
don't care how or where, but do it and do 
it soon. I guess maybe that won't get the 
Hamilton goat!" 

All the bitterness engendered by his recent 
misfortunes vanished from the heart of 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 93 

Skeets; there remained only the great glad- 
ness of adoration. 

"I I don't know how to thank you!" 
he stammered; and after a little he went 
his way, treading on air. 

An English-looking person, Dexter by name, 
was in earnest conversation with two other 
men in the corridor of the great skyscraper 
as Skeets passed out into the street. 

"That's the son," he told them. "Never 
mind him. It's the father we want. He 
must not move twenty feet unless one of 
you is along. It may come down to searching 
his home. He knows the answer to this 
riddle of the garter, and he's the only one who 
does. He knows where the garter's been and 
he knows where it is now. But we must 
catch him red-handed. Those are the orders 
from Scotland Yard." 

Half submerged in flaming headed after- 
noon newspapers, Brokaw Hamilton sat at 
the big desk in his study, staring coldly into 
the rebellious eyes of his daughter. He had 
commanded her presence peremptorily. 

"This has been a most unfortunate affair, 
Helen," he began at last, gravely. 



94 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Well, I should say as much," she assented 
hotly. "Did you see that snapshot of me 
in one of the papers? With a last year's 
hat on? And my mouth open? It looked 
just like a fish!" 

"Unfortunately you are involved in this 
mare's nest which some one has discovered. 
The notoriety," and he waved a hand 
toward the newspapers, "is extremely dis- 
tasteful to both your mother and myself. 
I'm afraid it's impossible to put an end to 
it, but we can do the next best thing and 
get you away from it." 

"You mean go to Newport? So early?" 

"Not Newport, nor Bar Harbor, nor Nar- 
ragansett, nor Lenox not even Europe. 
To-morrow morning you and your mother will 
take one maid and disappear into some 
quiet little place that nobody ever heard of, 
and you will remain there, hidden as it were, 
until the unpleasant features of this until 
the hurrah has subsided." 

Helen stared at him resignedly. 

"I know the sort of place you mean," 
she said; "some poky little old hole where 
where Oh, well! My heart is broken, 
anyway. I don't suppose it matters noth- 
ing matters much." 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 95 

"You are to leave no address behind you 
with any one, " her father continued, heedless 
of her tone. "Your identity, your name 
even, is to be different." Helen glanced 
up at him in bewilderment. "You under- 
stand? You are to take another name and 
use it until you come back to New York. 
It's the only way to get rid of the newspaper 
men." 

Helen's heart may have been broken I 
don't know, I'm sure but I do know that 
her eyes sparkled suddenly, and her rosy 
lips rippled into a smile; and she clasped her 
hands ecstatically. I say, her heart may have 
been broken, but she was an unconventional 
girl and perhaps she expressed her emotions 
in unconventional ways. 

"Oh, Pops, won't that be corking? I'll be 
Cicely Cicely Somebody-or-other. I just 
hate Helen, anyway. Helen! It always 
sounded to me like a long-legged, thin, slick- 
haired sort of person. Cicely! That sounds 
more like me, doesn't it?" 

Brokaw Hamilton chose not to notice the 
ebullition. 

"The ultimate consequences of this affair 
may be .more more er serious than we 
now suppose," he went on. "At any rate, 



96 MY LADY'S GARTER 

it is better that you and your mother should 
be away from it all. And that covers that." 

Idly he picked up the mummied foot of 
the Egyptian princess and scrutinized it 
much as if he had never seen it before. He 
had something else to say, and he didn't 
know where to begin. Helen shuddered a 
little. 

"Do put down that horrid thing!" she 
commanded. "It gives me the wiggles! 
The idea of handling dead peoples' feet like 
that!" 

"You've seen the afternoon papers, of 
course?" Brokaw Hamilton queried irrele- 
vantly. 

"Yes, and they were horrid, too. That 
snapshot of me with my mouth open!" 

"Therefore I don't have to tell you that 
I've withdrawn the charge I made against 
young Gaunt?" 

"I noticed you had," disdainfully. 

"Also, the charge of stealing the jeweled 
garter has been withdrawn." 

" Withdrawn, yes, but I wouldn't be a bit 
surprised if he did steal " 

"It's absurd to suppose young Gaunt is 
a thief. Somebody else got your jewels 
when you dropped them. I have a private 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 97 

detective looking into that now. " He paused 
and lifted his eyes curiously to Helen's face. 
"Now that you know young Gaunt is free 
of suspicion, I daresay you you still 
still love him?" 

"I hate him!" promptly. 

"Hate him? Why?" 

"Oh, because." 

"Because what?" 

"Just because." 

"But but that's no reason." Brokaw 
Hamilton gazed at her in astonishment. He 
knew all about the railroad business, too! 
"You know he's innocent?" 

"No reason! Huh! I'd like to hear a 
better one." 

"Suppose suppose " and her father 
spoke slowly, measuredly, " suppose I 
should withdraw my opposition to your mar- 
riage with young Gaunt?" 

"It wouldn't make the slightest difference 
in the world to me," Helen replied coolly. 
"I wouldn't marry him if he was the last man 
living! Horrid thing!" 

"Suppose," her father insisted, "suppose 
I should want you to marry him?" 

Helen's eyes opened wide. It didn't occur 
to her as being curious that her father should 



98 MY LADY'S GARTER 

alter so completely his attitude toward young 
Gaunt ; but it did occur to her as curious that 
he might want her to do something she had 
said she didn't want to do. 

"Why?" she asked in turn. 

"Suppose," he went on steadily, and his 
cold eyes were searching her face, "that I 
should insist that you marry him?" 

"Why, Pops, I don't" 

"Suppose I should say that you must 
marry him?" 

' ' Must ! ' ' The word aroused every instinct 
of rebellion in her. She was not the sort of 
young person to whom one might say " must " 
and get away with it. "Why, I wouldn't 
marry him 

"He's innocent, understand," her father 
urged. "Last night you would have eloped 
with him; to-day your attitude is incon- 
sistent. It you did love him, you do love 
him. If he should discover where you are to 
spend the summer, and 

"I won't have him!" she declared hotly. 
"I won't! I won't! I won't! And I think 
you're a mean, horrid old thing, so there!" 

She left him there, a much bewildered man. 

One of Brokaw Hamilton's trains, propelled 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 99- 

by a motive force generated by John Gaunt 's 
coal, was, at this psychological moment, bear- 
ing a personal representative of the Secretary 
of State from the city of Washington to the 
city of New York. His errand in the metropo- 
lis was a curious one. It was to request 
the Associated Press and the newspapers 
generally to refrain from further mention 
of the jeweled garter, and the mystery sur- 
rounding it. This unusual request followed 
closely upon a long interview between the 
British ambassador and the President of 
the United States. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE clock struck nine. From a drawer 
of the big desk in his study Brokaw 
Hamilton took a revolver, and having made 
sure it was loaded, thrust it into an outside 
pocket of the dust coat he wore. He pulled 
an automobile cap down over his head, and 
passed into the hall. 

"I may not return until after midnight," 
he told the footman, Dawkins. "It won't 
be necessary for any one to wait up for me. 
I have a latchkey." 

The footman nodded and the railroad mag- 
nate went on down the steps. His motor 
was waiting. 

"Eighth Avenue and Thirtieth Street," he 
directed the chauffeur. "It's nine o'clock 
now. I must be there by half -past nine." 

He stepped inside and the car moved away 
silently into the night. It was thirty-two 
minutes past nine when the motor drew up 
beside a curb, and Brokaw Hamilton alighted. 

"That's all," he said. "I won't need you 
again to-night." 

For a time, until the red tail light of the 
automobile disappeared in the direction of 

100 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 101 

uptown, he stood thoughtfully gazing after 
it, then, abruptly, he turned the corner and 
went along West Thirtieth Street. Over 
near Sixth Avenue, where two great green 
lamps squatted on their supports, was the 
new Tenderloin Police Station. Brokaw 
Hamilton, apparently on familiar ground, 
inserted a curiously fashioned key into the 
lock of a door; and somewhere an electric 
buzz sounded. Along the hall he went, cer- 
tain of his way, turning into a room at his 
left. It was bare, save for a decrepit chair 
or table here and there, and a vividly green 
sofa in a corner. 

A door opened, and Daddy Heinz tottered 
in, peering about him curiously, and rubbing 
his withered old hands together. 

"Ah, Mr. Hamilton," he greeted obse- 
quiously. 

"I daresay you were not expecting me?" 
questioned the railroad magnate. 

"Oh, yes," and the evil-eyed old man 
grinned cunningly. " It's about the Countess 
of Salisbury's garter. I have seen the after- 
noon newspapers." 

In a room directly above them The Hawk 
was spread out luxuriously all over his bed, 



102 MY LADY'S GARTER 

engaged in the pleasing pastime of planning 
a rose-strewn future. On a table within 
easy reach still lay Daddy Heinz' revolver, 
cocked ; and beside that glittering instrument 
of death was a neat stack of banknotes. 
Not much heigho ! The Hawk yawned lazily 
only a paltry thousand dollars, a trifle of 
loose pocket change. Beneath his pillow was 
a jewel case, and alongside that the Countess 
of Salisbury's garter, with one diamond 
gouged out. Here was a metamorphosis. 
Truly the lean days had gone. The Hawk 
could remember only dimly the time when 
he had been driven to niching pies from a 
kitchen window. 

Planning a rose-strewn future! And not 
at all that future he had looked forward to 
gloatingly as he plodded along through the 
rain the night before or had that been a 
thousand years ago? A greater future it 
was a future into which the fluffy red head 
and the alluring voice of Helen Hamilton 
intruded with charming persistence. For The 
Hawk, too, had read the afternoon papers, 
devoured every line in every one of them 
with an eagerness pardonable, perhaps, in view 
of his intimate connection with the events 
recited there. 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 103 

It pleased The Hawk to know that Her 
name was Helen Hamilton; it pleased him 
more to know that She was the daughter of 
Brokaw Hamilton, the railroad magnate 
it pleased him and quickened his pulse. 
Light heartedly he had laughed, as all of 
New York had, at the vicissitudes which had 
befallen poor Skeets; and he was honestly 
glad to know that the poet was free at last 
and clear of the odd entanglements. The 
Hawk smiled when he learned that Detective 
Meredith was "moving heaven and earth" to 
solve the mysteries of that Arabian Night. 
Also, he was delighted with the information 
that the thing he had picked from the mantel 
in the vacant house was a lady's garter. 
He had examined it with a new interest. 
- After awhile The Hawk drew the jewel 
case from beneath his pillow and meditatively 
spilled its contents out on the bed in front 
of him. Piece by piece he handled the 
quaintly wrought articles which reflected the 
capricious taste of their rightful owner. 
These rings, she had worn them on her fingers ; 
these bracelets had clasped the round, soft 
wrists; this brooch had nestled in the deli- 
cious curve of her neck ! And a single coin 
a half dollar ! She had given him that because 



io 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

she had thought he was starving! Shame- 
lessly The Hawk pressed it to his lips. Love 
is universal. 

For an hour or more The Hawk lay flat 
on his back, staring with blind eyes into 
nothingness, and dreaming of Her Loveliness ! 
It pleased him to recall that curious efful- 
gence, that halo that had surrounded her as 
she leaned from her window and unwit- 
tingly placed her jewels in his keeping. He 
remembered every curve of the slender figure 
as she had stood on the station-house steps 
with her father and Meredith; the compas- 
sion in her face when he had asked for alms; 
and her eyes were blue, blue, blue ! Suddenly 
The Hawk sat up straight in bed. 

"Why not?" he demanded enigmatically 
of the bed-post; and "Why not?" he asked 
of the little table whereon the revolver lay; 
and "Why not?" he queried of the half 
dollar which she She had charmed with 
her touch; and "Why not?" he wanted to 
know of the blazing electric light which 
burned above him; and "Why not?" he 
inquired of the world at large through the 
open window. 

He arose and went to the mirror, where he 
stood for a long time staring into the scrubby- 




Page 101 



" 'Oh, yes. It's about the Countess of Salisbury's garter. 
I have seen the afternoon newspapers' " 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 105 

bearded face reflected there. The bland eyes 
were shallow no longer; some new quality 
had been born in them. In that brief 
instant The Hawk was above sordid things; 
love had exalted him he almost had a soul. 
All at once he understood why Skeets, being 
in love with Helen, could write poetry. 
Why, hang it, he couldn't help but write 
poetry! He could have written poetry him- 
self at that instant. 

"Why not?" he asked anew of the scrubby- 
bearded reflection. And the answer came 
out of the void: "Daddy Heinz!" His face 
hardened; his eyes narrowed. To all intents 
and purposes The Hawk was dead to all men 
to the world at large to Meredith to all 
save Daddy Heinz ! He had made a mistake 
in arousing Daddy Heinz' sleeping memory 
of him; in coming here at all. If only he had 
stopped to think! 

But Daddy Heinz knew him, and in that 
knowledge would lie his danger. He had 
deliberately placed himself in the old man's 
grip; and always he would be near, threat- 
ening, blackmailing, whining. If only some 
one would sink his fingers in that venerable 
throat! The Hawk's teeth were clenched; 
his own wiry hands worked nervously. 



io6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Violence had always been distasteful to The 
Hawk, but now Daddy Heinz was in the 
way; now it was necessary to 

"Except for Daddy Heinz there is no 
reason," he told himself at last; he didn't 
even pay Skeets the tribute of considering 
him at all. Again he studied his reflection 
in the mirror. "A barber could shape me up 
in half an hour. I want her I'll win her!" 
He smiled charmingly at his reflection. "It 
would doubtless please Brokaw Hamilton 
to know my decision." 

Shortly after midnight a patrolman in 
West Thirtieth Street noticed that the door 
of a disreputable looking old house was 
standing open, and he made an investiga- 
tion. In one of the rooms on the ground 
floor he found old Daddy Heinz, dead! 
There were three bullet holes in his body, 
one shot having entered the head from the 
back. On the floor beside the evil old man 
lay a revolver in which there were three 
exploded shells. There was no sign of any 
one else in the house, except in the room 
directly over that where the body was found. 
The bed there had been slept in. A vast 
quantity of jewels and art treasures, long 



THE ADVENTURES OF THE HAWK 107 

stolen, were recovered; also a curious little 
leather-bound book. It seemed to be an 
account book of some sort. 

While the police from the Tenderloin 
Station were investigating the mystery, 
Brokaw Hamilton, pallid as death, staggered 
up the steps of his home in The Bronx and 
let himself in with his latchkey. He went 
straight to his study and, after locking the 
door, placed a single unset diamond in a 
secret drawer of one of his curio cabinets. 
It was the stone The Hawk had gouged out 
of the Countess of Salisbury's garter! 

A tiny fleck of blood on Brokaw Hamil- 
ton's hand! He stared at it, his eyes dilating 
with horror. 

"Good God!" he 'exclaimed. 



H 



PART III 

"l LOVE YOU!" 

CHAPTER I 

OW, " queried the stranger in the 
Garden of Eden, "how do you and 
Eve manage to while away your time?" 

"Well," Adam replied, as he thoughtfully 
ran his fingers through his chin whiskers, 
"sometimes we sit and think, and other 
times we just sit." 

Treading warily to avoid stepping on the 
family snake, the stranger went forth into 
the unknown world bearing with him the 
original bon mot. It is next heard of as 
applied to the sprawly little village of Satuit, 
which cuddles in the majestic sweep of Massa- 
chusetts Bay, entrenched behind frowning 
battlements of graveled cliffs which rise 
sheerly from the spume of the sea. Like 
unto Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden 
its inhabitants manage to while away most 
of their time sitting and thinking, princi- 
pally just sitting. 

In the old days when bold, bad pirates in 
long, low, rakish craft threaded the coast 

108 



"I LOVE YOU!" 109 

line, snooping in and out of the verdant 
coves, and smuggling was a recognized pro- 
fession, Satuit 's mirror-like harbor was a 
famous rendezvous and fitting-out point. 
Even now there are grizzled, leather-colored, 
doddering old chaps there who could tell 
marvelous tales of blood, and pillage, and 
piracy; of ravished galleons, and the sacking 
of rich seaports in the West Indies could 
tell marvelous tales, and smack their lips in 
the telling. Even now there may be found 
in some ancient, cobwebbed cellar a wee drop 
of golden rum carefully hoarded through the 
misty years that separate progressive to-day 
from that past when the sunshiny liquor 
of Jamaica was fair loot on the high seas; 
even now an occasional quaint treasure of 
art which, perhaps, had place in a Spanish 
grandee's palace on the Caribbean may be 
found kicking around some curious old house 
of Satuit. 

To-day, almost in the suburbs of a great 
city, Satuit is an anachronism, a part of a 
past century with the romantic glamour of 
that past hanging over it. Captain Kidd's 
treasure is hidden under every gaunt, gray 
stone; and Puritans, in spirit at least, still 
stalk the evanescent deer, blunderbuss at 



no MY LADY'S GARTER 

shoulder; or shoot wild ducks from their 
front yards; or fish over their back fences, 
figuratively speaking, for luscious little smelt; 
or dig ditches, as necessity may be. There 
is even an occasional Indian, remnant of his 
race, stoical as ever, but grown heap much 
fat on the white man's grub. It was out of 
consideration for him that the first law on 
the old town book was abrogated. This 
law said that no game should be shot on the 
Sabbath, except wolves and Indians. To 
this extent Satuit has progressed. 

A rifle shot away, generally southward, is 
the old oaken bucket yes, the long-suffering 
bucket, the moss-covered bucket, the iron- 
bound bucket upon which musical youth has 
hung so many strange and weird inharmonies; 
and a rifle shot beyond that is the little white 
church to which, tradition says, Daniel Web- 
ster used to go; and another rifle shot away 
stands a finger-like marble shaft to the great 
Miles Standish who, it will be remembered, 
incautiously sent John Alden to do his wooing. 
Still farther on is Plymouth, and Plymouth 
Rock, the hearthstone of American liberty. 
It is very small for its age, is Plymouth Rock, 
of a size to have been laid by the original 
Plymouth hen small for its age and far 



"I LOVE YOU!" in 

from the water. Tradition says the Pil- 
grims landed on this particular rock, and if 
we believe that thing about Daniel Webster 
going to church, we might as well believe this 
along with it. 

Off in the other direction, generally north- 
ward, on a sandy spit which thrusts its curve 
into the bay, is the identical lighthouse, 
fallen into ruin, behind which Abigail and 
Rebecca Bates hid in the twilight and sounded 
the call to arms, thus shooing off the British 
invaders in the war of 1812. Yes, it's the 
same lighthouse you've read about in his- 
tory. Even now, on stormy nights, white- 
clad, spooky, girlish figures move about the 
ruins, and the piping of a flute and the 
shrilling of a drum are heard high above 
the whistle of the wind and the lashing of 
the sea. On and on beyond is Black Rock, 
and Merrymount. Some historically impor- 
tant things happened at these places, but 
they escape me at the moment. And on 
still farther is the city of Quincy, home of 
the dead presidents. 

In the midst of all this nestles the village of 
Satuit, scattering, and long and lanky of 
street, quiet, restful, and untouched of the 
world an oasis of the past in the desert of 



ii2 MY LADY'S GARTER 

the present. Echoes of the bustling world 
outside reach but faintly a motor car that 
blunders in and goes screaming through, an 
occasional aeroplane that comes slithering 
out of the aviation field at Squantum; a fat 
real-estate man who would chop up the vil- 
lage into town lots and build monstrous 
houses upon them; an occasional touch of 
the vernacular of the day in the mouths of 
its inhabitants. Then, too, beyond Peggotty 
Beach, across Bass' Cove, a wireless mast 
rises from Brant Rock, an exclamation point 
in the magical story of man's achievement. 

Sentinel over all, towers the minaret of 
Minot's Ledge lighthouse a spindle against 
the glow of the aurora borealis. I see its 
flash from my window now as I write. One- 
four-three is the signal; sailor men call it 
the "I-love-you" light. "I love you!" it 
flashes over the threshing waters to the 
incoming liner; "I love you!" it tells my 
true love in her bedchamber; " I love you! " 
it blazes to the fisher lad scudding into the 
sunset; "I love you!" it assures the doubt- 
ing maid. So it stands, a beacon, a personal 
message out of the void of night. It is right 
and fit that it should be so. 

And now the stage is set; on with the play! 



CHAPTER II 

IT had never been given to Cap 'n Barry 
to fathom the vagaries of city folk. 
Just why a girl, clad only in a bathing suit 
that revealed an astonishing length of silken 
hosiery only in a bathing suit, and a sen- 
suous glory of brick-red hair that rippled 
down over her shoulders, half hiding the 
foam-white throat and arms, should sit for 
two mortal hours gazing out upon the incom- 
ing tide in Bass' Cove with dreamy eyes 
which reflected the sapphire of the sea just 
why she should sit there doing that and 
nothing but that, was past his comprehension. 
And an east wind blowing, too! Be dinged 
if he could see, anyhow, why anybody'd 
wanter splash around in water that warn't 
much warmer'n the inside of an ice-cream 
freezer be dinged if he could see it! 

Upon the white expanse of Peggotty Beach 
the girl's was the only figure. From his 
sunny nook in the lee of a moss shanty the 
Cap'n had occasionally craned his neck 
around to squint at her over the shimmering 
sands. 'Twarn't that he were curious, as 
you might say, but he'd been noticing her 
8 113 



ii4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

for several days, and she was a stranger, and 
it irritated him to know there was somebody 
in Satuit he warn't acquainted with. For 
he knew everything about everybody, did the 
Cap'n. He had a subtle way, all his own, 
of acquiring information. 

He pondered the situation with increasing 
annoyance, until finally he could stand it no 
longer. He arose, shook out his pipe, and 
went over to the girl. 

"Morning!" he greeted. 

Stirred out of her dreaminess, she glanced 
up at him quickly. The slight movement 
set the sunlight to playing strange pranks 
in the brick-red hair; the sapphire eyes took 
in the aged, weather-beaten figure and the 
wrinkled, leather-like countenance at one 
sweep. She nodded, and smiled brightly. 

"Good morning!" she replied. 

"Ain't you cold?" The Cap'n appraised 
her scant costume uneasily. 

"Cold?" She laughed, and the silken 
limbs vanished sedately beneath her bathing 
skirt. "On a day like this? Why, it's 
glorious! I've been sitting here perfectly 
fascinated by the play of color on the rocks 
over there. Those big ones look like twin 
lions, don't they? And did you ever see 



"I LOVE YOU!" 115 

so many shades of reds, and blues, and 
purples?" 

Instantly the Cap'n indexed her and filed 
her away; she was one o' them artists. 
They all talked like that. He'd met 'em 
before had even argued with 'em as to the 
color of them same rocks. He disdained to 
go into the matter again. 

"One o' the new people, ain't you?" he 
began tactfully, as he leaned back against 
a near-by dory. 

"New people?" the girl repeated. "Oh, 
yes, yes. We've been here only a week. 
This is our first summer. " 

She braced herself on her outstretched 
arms, looking up into his face with a quizzical 
expression about her lips and a demure light 
in the depths of her blue, blue eyes. Instinc- 
tively the Cap'n recognized that here was 
opportunity for the display of all his mental 
adroitness, his diplomatic deftness. 

"What might your name be?" he asked, 
subtly. 

"My name?" she repeated. "My name 
is Quain." 

"Quain?" 

"Quain, yes Cicely Quain." She smiled.. 
"Do you like it? I adore Cicely." 



ji6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Then you're one o' the folks that's moved 
into that writer feller's place on Second Cliff? " 

"Stepping Stones, yes." 

"Knowed when he built it he'd never be 
able to keep it up. That gray-haired old 
woman up there is your ma, mebbe?" 

"The middle-aged lady with white hair 
is my mother, yes." 

"And that feller with all the yeller whiskers 
and hair he's your husband, mebbe?" 

There was a deepening of the sun flush in 
the girl's cheeks; her nose crinkled, and she 
laughed outright. She shook her head until 
the brick red of her hair seemed to leap into a 
living flame. 

"No," she said; "I'm not married." 

"Brother, mebbe?" 

"No." 

"Just aboarding with you?" 

"No; he's our guest." 

The Cap'n had a subtle way, all his own, 
of acquiring information. He showed it by 
his next question. 

"What might his name be?' 

"His name is von Derp." 

"Von which?" 

"Von Derp Mr. August von Derp. He's 
from Holland." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 

"Dutchman, huh! I don't think much o f 
Dutchmen. Used to be a Dutch cook on a 
ship with me. They can't cook much." 
He stroked his straggly beard. "Where is. 
your pa? Dead?" 

The abruptness of the question startled 
the girl into another laugh. The Cap'n 
looked down upon her curiously, vaguely 
astonished. Dusky gold shadows were rac- 
ing through her hair; the sapphire in her 
eyes changed to turquoise. 

"No. My father's in New York." 
"Banker, mebbe?" 
"No; railroad man." 

"Oh. I knowed a railroad man once. He 
was a brakeman on the New Haven. 
Reckon, mebbe, you wouldn't have knowed 
him?" 

"Possibly not." 

"What sort o' job has your pa got? Con- 
ductor, mebbe?" 

There was a quick crunching of gravel 
behind them, and they both turned. Coming 
toward them across the beach was a young 
man, immaculate of attire, long of hair, with 
a strange eagerness in his dreamy eyes. The 
girl rose to her knees, and stared in aston- 
ishment. 



n8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Skeets!" she exclaimed. 

"Helen!" 

"Well, of all people on earth!" Sud- 
denly she laughed, came to her feet, and sped 
down the slant of the beach toward the 
water. 

"Helen!" There was a world of disap- 
pointment in Skeets' tone. 

The girl paused at the brink of the water to 
wave one hand mockingly, then, turning, 
plunged into the heart of a billow. It was a 
full minute before she reappeared, far out 
beyond the roll of the surf, her hair streaming 
behind her like little brick-red serpents as 
she swam steadily out into the open cove 
with slow, powerful stroke. The two men 
stood watching her in dumb amazement 
the old man and the young man. 

"I'll be dinged!" said the Cap'n. 

"Dammit!" growled Skeets. 

Their eyes met. 

"What made her do that?" 

"Because because she's a woman." 

"You called her Helen, didn't you?" 

"Well?" 

"She was just atelling me her name was 
Cicely." 

Came a sudden blaze into the dreamy eyes 



"I LOVE YOU!" 119 

of the poet. He took off his hat and brushed 
back a long forelock with one pale, lavender 
glove. 

"She was just atelling me her name " 
the Cap'n insisted. 

"Say, do you see that big rock way over 
there?" Skeets demanded, and he pointed 
off toward Third Cliff. "Well, here's a 
cigar. You go over and sit on that rock, 
and smoke that cigar. When I need you, I'll 
call you." 

The Cap'n took the cigar mechanically and 
stared at it perplexed. What was this young 
feller adriving at? Mebbe he didn't want 
him around! Well, by gravy, he could take 
a hint if anybody could; and besides it 
looked like a good cigar, so he took it thriftily 
and went, deeply aggrieved. Be dinged if he 
could understand city folks anyhow be 
dinged if he could ! 

Left alone, Skeets took up a moody vigil 
on the beach, waiting angrily until such time 
as it should please Helen there, I've let it 
out! I beg your pardon, really! until such 
time as it should please Cicely to come in. 
Now she was visible as a wave lifted her 
to its top; then she would vanish behind a 
sinuous crest of the waters, and his heart 



120 MY LADY'S GARTER 

would stand still until she reappeared. After 
a long, long time she began swimming inshore 
again ; finally she was within hailing distance. 

"Helen!" he called pleadingly. 

"My name is not Helen," she replied. 

"Cicely!" 

"Miss Quain, if you please." 

"Miss Quain, then. Please come in." 

"I'm not coming in until you go away." 

"And I'm not going away until you come 
in." 

Skeets sat down grimly. 

"Very well; I shall not come in at all. 
I'll remain out here in this cold water until 
I take cramps and drown." She turned and 
paddled toward the open. 

"Helen!" She swam on. "Cicely!" She 
swam on. " Miss Quain ! ' ' She looked back. 
"I have something I must say to you." 

"I don't want to hear it." 

"I won't go until you do hear it." 

"Very well; I'll drown." 

She swam on steadily. Skeets took off 
his perfectly good hat and slammed it down 
upon the beach violently, then picked it up, 
shook the sand out of it, and jammed it back 
on his head. Perched on a distant rock, like 
a crow on a limb, old Cap'n Barry cackled 



"I LOVE YOU!" 121 

dryly. Be dinged if he could understand 
'em! 

Skeets started away angrily. 

"I'm going!" he flung over his shoulder. 

"Oh, don't rush away on my account," 
Cicely taunted. "I'd just as soon drown." 

Skeets knew the indomitable will beneath 
that glory of red hair, and dumb with anger 
at the unreasonableness of her attitude, he 
swung along the short curving road that led 
from Peggotty Beach to Stepping Stones. 
He'd explain that affair of the garter to Helen 
if if hang it, if he had to stick around all 
summer! She had whisked away from New 
York before he'd had a chance to even see 
her; and now he'd he'd make her listen! 

Stepping Stones was a rather more preten- 
tious place than its neighbors a very modern 
cottage, with a very old well-sweep on one 
side and a very new Italian garden on the 
other incongruous to a degree. In one 
corner of the sloping lawn an embowered, 
bevined study building nestled. Thrown 
across the lawn in crescent shape were 
the huge bowlders which gave the place its 
name. 

Skeets was possessed of only one idea in 
the wide world to see and talk to Helen's 



122 MY LADY'S GARTER 

mother. He was convinced that his tale of 
woe would soften her adamantine heart; and 
things might be possible. So intent was he 
upon this one object that he almost ran into 
a young man who was sauntering down the 
drive as he turned in. Involuntarily he 
paused, and for an instant the eyes of the 
two men met. 

There was something striking in the 
stranger's appearance, in his manner, in his 
dress a distinct foreign look about him, 
Skeets decided. His hair was rather long, 
wavy, and of a pale blond cast almost 
lemon colored; his beard, exquisitely trimmed 
and pointed, was of the same color, but if 
anything a shadow darker; his brows, deli- 
cate as pencil lines and pale as his hair, were 
lifted inquiringly now, opening wide a pair 
of of brown eyes? Yes, hang it, they were 
brown! There was a mathematical courtesy 
in his manner, and indefinable savor of 
European boulevards in the trivial niceties 
of his dress. 

"I beg your pardon," Skeets stammered. 
"Does Mrs. Hamilton live here?" 

"Mrs. Quain lives here," replied the 
stranger. He raised his hat. There was no 
accent in his speech, but the precise little 



"I LOVE YOU!" 123 

twist of a man who speaks perfectly some 
language other than his own. 

"Stupid of me," Skeets apologized. "I 
mean Mrs. Quain. Thank you." 

The stranger nodded, lifted his hat again, 
and strolled off down the road toward Peg- 
go tty Beach. There was a little of perplexity 
in his eyes; and something more than that 
a subtle, sardonic amusement. Skeets stood 
looking after him until he vanished at the 
turn in the road. Not once did the stranger 
look back. 

Mrs. Hamilton really, I beg your pardon! 
Mrs. Quain, beautiful in her maturity with 
the complexion of an apple-cheeked girl and 
snow-white hair, received Skeets with a little 
surprised air that was almost a welcome. 

"Well!" she greeted him. "How came 
you here?" 

"I don't know," Skeets replied gloomily. 
"That is, of course, I'm here because Helen 
I mean Cicely, you know she is here, 
but" 

His voice died away of its own accord; 
the poetic eyes reflected a settled melancholy. 
Perchance there came to him a haunting 
thought of that yellow-topped exquisite whom 
he had passed in the drive. 



i2 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"But how did you learn where we were?" 
Mrs. Quain insisted. "How did you find 
us?" 

"It was rather curious, since I come to 
think of it," was the reply. "Some one 
called me on the telephone yesterday after- 
noon in New York and told me you and your 
daughter were here under the name of Quain, 
and and I came. I don't know who it was 
at the 'phone; I had been so anxious to find 
you that I I forgot to ask." 

"Curious," Mrs. Quain commented lan- 
guidly. "The only person in New York 
who knew our whereabouts is my husband, 
and he wouldn't have " 

"I can readily believe that," Skeets agreed 
grimly. He poked a pale lavender finger 
into the crown of his hat and spun it dreamily. 
"He doesn't like me." 

"And yet you called here?" Mrs. Quain 
reminded him. 

"Yes, I called because Helen that is, 
Cicely oh, you know!" 

And before Skeets realized just what he 
was doing he unbosomed himself to the 
mother of this girl he loved. She listened in 
silence to the end, without astonishment, 
without approval, with a slight smile on her 



"I LOVE YOU!" 125 

lips, and a far-away look in her eyes listen- 
ing to all of it, hopes, plans, elopement, every- 
thing. At length Skeets stopped talking 
because there was nothing else to say. 

"I have very curious ideas about love and 
marriage, Mr. Gaunt," she remarked. "I 
believe a girl should marry the man she loves. 
Isn't that old-fashioned?" 

"Then?" and a great light of hope illu- 
mined the poet's face. 

" I didn't know of the attempted elopement, 
but if I had known I doubt if I should have 
interfered, because well, I'm old-fashioned, 
I suppose. And I knew she Helen 
Cicely" 

''Knew she loved me?" Skeets interrupted. 

Mrs. Quain shrugged her shapely shoulders. 

"However, my husband has ideas of his 
own," she continued. "I should never 
actively oppose his wishes. He objects to 
you; it is not my place to question why. 
You should not have come here." 

"But but " Skeets stammered, "you 
after what you've said, you're not going 
to send me away?" 

"I couldn't send you away if I would 
that is, away from the village," she pointed 
out. "I don't know that I should even have 



i 2 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

the courage to forbid you the house, although 
perhaps I should." 

"And besides," Skeets rushed on, "you 
and your daughter are here alone. You'll 
need some man about to er to " What 
the deuce did women ever need men about 
for? 

"We have one man about now," Mrs. 
Quain told him. "A Mr. von Derp. As I 
understand it, he is to remain with us all 
summer." 

"Von Derp!" Skeets' thoughts instantly 
reverted to the yellow-topped stranger. ' ' You 
mean the young man I met in the drive- 
way?" 

"Probably you met him. He went out 
just before you came in." 

"Who is he, anyhow?" Skeets demanded. 

"I don't know, I'm sure," Mrs. Quain 
replied, "except that he's from Holland 
Amsterdam, I think and is the son of a 
business associate of my husband's there. 
I don't know why," she added resignedly, 
"he should have been unloaded on us in this 
little place to entertain all summer. Why, 
we haven't even a fourth hand at bridge." 

From the screened veranda where they 
sat they saw Cicely and von Derp turn into 



"I LOVE YOU!" 127 

the driveway the girl in her dripping bath- 
ing suit and he, immaculate, leaning slightly 
toward her and talking earnestly. 

Involuntarily Skeets' nervous fingers closed. 
Mrs. Quain noted the movement, slight as 
it was. 

"I think, perhaps, he affects me that way, 
too, " she said. "I can't get over the impres- 
sion that he could fall violently in love with 
any woman who was rich enough." 

Looking up quickly, as if at the suggestion 
of von Derp, Cicely saw Skeets, looked 
startled, then darted in a side entrance which 
led to her room. Von Derp came in the 
front way, and through to where his hostess 
and Skeets sat. 

"Mr. Gaunt, a New York friend Mr. 
von Derp of Holland." 

"Charmed, I'm sure," von Derp, smiling, 
revealed firm white teeth. "If I'm not mis- 
taken, Mr. Gaunt, I saw a likeness of you in 
a New York newspaper a few days since?" 

"Perhaps," Skeets assented, with some- 
thing vaguely antagonistic in his manner. 
"It was on the occasion of my arrest charged 
with the theft of a jeweled garter and of a 
certain Miss Hamilton's jewels." 

"I congratulate you upon your what 



128 MY LADY'S GARTER 

shall I say?" said von Derp. "It was a 
ridiculous affair altogether. I must apologize 
for staring when I met you in the drive. It 
was then that I had my first impression of 
having seen you before." 

Mrs. Quain sent a telegram to her husband: 

"Keats Gaunt has found us here. Refuses to be 
sent away. What shall we do?" 

To which her husband replied: 

"I sent him there. Make him your guest while he 
remains. Give him every opportunity of being with 
Cicely. Match between them is absolutely necessary. ' ' 

Mrs. Quain opened her beautiful eyes in 
astonishment. 

"Well, anyway," she observed placidly, 
"he'll make a fourth hand at bridge." 



CHAPTER III 

WITH Chatham light hard down astern, 
and Race Point light aport, the motor 
boat Pyramid swung in a wide semicircle, 
and pointed her slender nose almost due 
west, questioning the darkness with a tentacle 
of flame from her powerful searchlamp. She 
slackened on the turn, and then, straightened 
out, her engines roared as her throttle was 
opened, and with quickened speed she went 
smashing on through the sinister green waters, 
the phosphorescent ruffle at her bow gleam- 
ing like white teeth, and trailing away into 
nothingness in her wake. 

Through the gaunt rigging of fishing craft 
huddled like sheep at anchor were small, 
twinkling, detached stars ; and this was Prov- 
incetown by night. More than once the man 
at the Pyramid's helm, himself an impalpa- 
ble part of the surrounding gloom, glanced 
toward the town which hangs on the tail of 
Cape Cod; and a dozen times he turned 
flatly to stare astern. Twice he extended a 
hand and touched the throttle as if to slow 
his engine, but each time changed his mind. 

Carne at last, far behind, that which he 
9 129 



i 3 o MY LADY'S GARTER 

had evidently been expecting a sudden burst- 
ing into view of another searchlight, low on 
the waters. Obviously, from the dip of the 
light, here too was a motor boat; and obvi- 
ously, too, here was some new game of hare 
and hound. The Pyramid played it her own 
way, for her engines slowed suddenly, her 
helm went hard aport, and she swung in 
around Race Point like a curving arrow, the 
pursuing light dropping off astern. True 
to this course she held until the light reap- 
peared; until her own light showed dead 
ahead a swarm of small craft bobbing at 
anchor in Provincetown haven. 

Danger to his own craft, or those about 
him, was apparently of little moment to the 
helmsman of the Pyramid. Bearing straight 
down upon the half hundred or more sail- 
boats and small vessels of the swarm, he 
pressed three buttons one after the other and 
his lights died the searchlight first, then the 
red port, and the green starboard. Still 
there was a faint glow from the cabin; he 
touched a fourth button and that, too, was 
extinguished. From a distance the effect 
was if the Pyramid had dropped anchor and 
made snug for the night obviously an effect 
calculated to throw the hound off the track. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 131 

But the Pyramid didn't slow. Like some 
black leviathan of the deep she went plunging 
on through utter darkness, her helmsman 
staring ahead tensely with only the night 
lights of other craft to guide him. Through 
the outer edge of the patch of vessels she 
wriggled on, rubbing shoulders with a dory 
here, and a catboat there, and a launch 
yonder on and on through until came clear 
water ahead. 

Then and not until then did the helmsman 
glance back. Already the powerful light of 
the pursuing motor boat had touched the 
outer fringe of the little fleet, and she was 
slowing. Abruptly the Pyramid came around 
to her helm on the starboard tack, straight- 
ened out, her engines crackled, and she 
leaped ahead like a thing of life. The hare 
had doubled; the hound seemed hopelessly 
entangled in the mess of small craft. Observ- 
ing all of which, the helmsman of the Pyramid 
smiled, grimly. 

"I think perhaps that will keep that chap 
busy for an hour or so," he remarked. 

All her own lights extinguished, an excess of 
caution perhaps now, the Pyramid ran on 
blindly through the darkness with only the 
polar star to guide her. Mile after mile 



i 32 MY LADY'S GARTER 

she laid behind her, her nose pointing nor'- 
west-by-west, her helmsman staring ahead 
and smoking idly. In fifteen minutes he 
should pick up Minot's Ledge light; then it 
would be easy to make either Satuit harbor, 
or Bass' Cove, which his chart told him lay 
between Second and Third Cliffs. There he 
could lie up for the night, fill his gasoline 
tank, and be away early with a fair chance. 

"I love you!" 

The flashes of Minot's Ledge light one- 
four-three came at last faintly, low over 
the rolling waters. The helmsman nodded 
understandingly. Ten minutes later a glow- 
ing speck on Third Cliff reached him; another 
ten minutes and similar glowing specks ap- 
peared on Second Cliff. Within less than 
an hour the cliffs themselves bulked on either 
side of him, and running close up to the beach 
he cast anchor. It would be only a question 
of a few hours before the pursuing motor 
boat realized the trick that had been played; 
but it would probably have to beat up the 
coast to find him, and meanwhile there was 
a good night's rest ahead. 

The clock on the little white church in 
Satuit was booming eleven as the helmsman, 
having made all snug for the night, went 



"I LOVE YOU!" 133 

below. With one hand he fumbled for an 
instant in the darkness of the cabin, then the 
electric lights flamed and he stood blinking 
in their glare, slender, almost boyish in figure, 
lithe, powerful, sinewy built like a steel 
bridge. His face was youthful, his hair 
thick and wavy, his eyes brown. 

"I'll take one look at this thing, anyway, 
before I turn in," he remarked. 

From a drawer of the gravity table he 
produced a photograph and, dropping down 
on a stool beside the table, he fell to study- 
ing it. It seemed to be a representation of 
a personal ornament of some sort a dark 
ribbon, edged with a contrasting color and 
overlaid with shields of gold upon each of 
which appeared to be a motto. "Honi soit 
qui mal y pense!" He spelled it out labori- 
ously with the aid of a magnifying glass. In 
each of the shields a stone of some sort was 
set it was impossible to tell what kind they 
were from the picture ; and there was a pen- 
dant representing St. George and the Dragon. 

"I don't think there's the slightest doubt 
but what it is the same," he mused. "If 
it is!" 

He produced a long pocketbook from an 
inside pocket of his coat, and drew from it a 



i 3 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

tissue- wrapped something which he opened. 
It was the Countess of Salisbury's garter! 
For half an hour he sat motionless, comparing 
the photograph, detail by detail, with the 
jeweled trifle which he had spread on the 
table before him. At length he rose, replaced 
the photograph in the drawer of the table, 
restored the garter to his pocket, and stepped 
out on deck for a final look around. Five 
minutes later he was sound asleep. 

The clock on the little white church in 
the village struck twelve, then one, then two. 
A bulging searchlight swept around the point 
of Brant Rock, headed for Bass' Cove. On 
and on it came steadily, until finally the 
rhythmical beat of an engine was audible 
over the waters. Ten minutes, and the 
searchlight focused the Pyramid as she lay 
slowly rising and falling at anchor. Another 
ten minutes, and came a hail: 

' ' Motor boat, ahoy ! ' ' 

The man asleep in the cabin of the Pyramid 
moved uneasily. 

"Hey, there, aboard the Pyramid!" 

The sleeping man awoke suddenly, listen- 
ing; instinctively he reached for the electric 
switch, but he didn't turn it he merely 
waited. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 135 

' ' Hey, you Pyramid! ' ' 

Through the portholes of the Pyramid the 
glare of the searchlight poured in thin streams. 
For a scant second the face of the man in 
her cabin was illumined. Dead white it was, 
the colorless lips closed, the eyes narrowed, 
the chin thrust forward. Silently as a snake 
he slid out of his berth, pulled open the 
drawer of a locker, and took up a revolver. 
It was loaded, he knew that it was always 
loaded! Facing the sliding door which led 
to the deck, he stepped back until he rested 
against the forward wall of the cabin, and 
there he crouched, the revolver in his right 
hand, his left resting on the electric switch. 

"If it's a bomb, they've got me!" he 
muttered. "Otherwise, I have a chance!" 

The engine of the other motor boat was 
still now. Came a squeak of davits as her 
tender was lowered; then the splash of oars, 
and finally the Pyramid rocked slightly as 
the tender bumped gently on her port. Still 
the man in the cabin was motionless! 

There was the muffled sound of feet on 
the deck as one, two men scrambled over the 
rail; then the hissing of their boots across 
the canvas floorcloth, the laying of a hand 
on the door of the cabin, and it slid back. 



i 3 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

For a scant instant the clear sky was visible 
beyond, then was obscured by a moving 
figure. 

Came a sudden blaze of light as the electric 
switch was turned, then a curt: 

"Hands up!" 

The man in the door was no fool. The 
light, sudden as it was unexpected, dazzled 
him so that he could barely distinguish the 
crouching pa jama-clad figure at the far end 
of the cabin with revolver lined for his breast 
so his hands went up. 

As he stared at the intruder the face of the 
man with the revolver underwent a curious 
change. The color came back to his cheeks, 
the brown eyes opened slightly, the lips 
parted. 

"Why," and there was a note of astonish- 
ment in his voice, "it's Detective Meredith, 
isn't it?" 

"Right," was the response. 

"I beg your pardon, really," and the 
threatening revolver clattered on the table. 
"You startled me a bit. Come in." 

"Thank you!" There was grim irony in 
the detective's voice. "You don't object 
to a friend, I hope? Allow me, Mr. Dexter, " 
and he stood aside to admit an English- 



"I LOVE YOU!" 137 

looking person with gimlet-like eyes, "to 
introduce Mr. George Harrington Leigh, 
alias The Hawk. Mr. Dexter," he took the 
trouble to explain courteously, "is from 
Scotland Yard." 

"Scotland Yard? Indeed?" There was 
almost a welcome in the manner of the pajama- 
clad young man. "I've met some of the 
Scotland Yard operators. However," and 
he smiled pleasantly, "Mr. Meredith is in 
error as to my name. I'm afraid he mistakes 
me for some one else?" 

"Yes?" There was an ironic courtesy in 
Meredith's tone. "And what name does it 
please you to wear now?" 

"It pleases me to be known as Bruce 
Colquhoun, if it's all the same to you?" 

"Just as you like, of course." Meredith 
stared at him for a moment, then, laughing, 
picked up the revolver from the table. "It 
has taken me six years to land you. It was 
a long chase, eh?" 



CHAPTER IV 

WITH many and divers creature com- 
forts generously provided from the 
well-stocked galley of the Pyramid spread out 
on the table between them, the three men sat 
down in apparent amity to thresh out the 
matter in hand. It may have been accident, 
but it probably wasn't, that caused Detec- 
tives Meredith and Dexter to choose those 
seats nearest the companionway which led 
to the deck, for by their choice they effectu- 
ally barred all egress to their pa jama-clad 
host this self-styled Bruce Colquhoun. 

There was complacent gratification in Mere- 
dith's manner as he drained his glass and 
leaned back, tilting his cigar upward; sheer, 
watchful rigidity in the attitude of the Scot- 
land Yard man, Dexter, whose eyes, never 
for a moment, left those of their host; and 
Colquhoun himself seemed merely curious. 
Certainly there was no other visible emotion, 
not a trace of anxiety, or uneasiness, or even 
of impatience. 

"You know, Leigh," Meredith began 
finally. 

"Colquhoun, please." 
138 



"I LOVE YOU!" 139 

"You know, Colquhoun, " Meredith cor- 
rected himself, "there was a widespread and 
well-established belief that you were dead 
until the other night when old Daddy Heinz 
was found murdered in his place in West 
Thirtieth Street. I don't think I am incor- 
rect when I say that the search for The Hawk 
was at an end. But certain discoveries were 
made in the examination of Daddy Heinz' 
place which " 

"Before you go on," Colquhoun inter- 
rupted, "let me ask who Daddy Heinz is 
or was?" 

"So you're going to make trouble, after 
all?" the detective questioned. He shook 
his head in obvious disappointment. "Does 
it happen, by any chance, that you've ever 
seen this?" 

He produced a badly worn, curious little 
leather-bound book and, without opening it 
or relinquishing it, held it up before the eyes 
of the young man. At last Colquhoun sig- 
nified a casual negative. 

"I have no recollection whatever of ever 
having seen it." 

"Well, I'll tell you what it is!" Meredith 
leaned forward suddenly and brought a 
great fist down on the table. "It's old 



i 4 o MY LADY'S GARTER 

Daddy Heinz' account book absolute proof 
that The Hawk was alive on June 17, 
eight days ago! The last entry, made 
the day Daddy Heinz was murdered, 
reads: 'Advanced to Hawk, $1,000!' " He 
paused. 

"Well?" queried Colquhoun. "What 
about it?" 

"On the strength of that entry search for 
The Hawk was renewed," and Meredith 
flung a hand impatiently at his host. "I 
put practically every plain-clothes man in 
New York on the job. Three days ago one 
of them discovered that a man answering 
the description of The Hawk, except in one 
minor particular, had purchased a large, 
powerful motor boat the Lizzie Ann and 
had vanished in it up Long Island Sound. 
We chartered another motor boat and started 
in pursuit, Dexter and I, with a pilot. We 
picked up the first trace of the Lizzie Ann 
at New London, where, " he spoke measuredly, 
impressively, "where we learned that the old 
name had been painted out and a new one 
the Pyramid painted on!" 

Colquhoun smiled charmingly. 

"Just between us now, man to man," he 
asked, "if you had bought a good looking 



"I LOVE YOU!" 141 

motor boat named the Lizzie Ann wouldn't 
you have changed the name of it?" 

The frivolous tone irritated Meredith, and 
brought a flush to his cheeks. That com- 
placent gratification, born of the belief that 
quarry long sought had surrendered without 
a fight, vanished. 

"We were not more than three hours 
behind you into Martha's Vineyard, and 
only two hours at Siasconset, where you 
stopped to take gasoline," he went on in 
detail. "We sighted you off Chatham light, 
and followed you around Race Point, where 
we lost you. I had an impression you'd 
make for Boston, so we swept up the coast 
until well, here we are. " 

"And now that you are here," remarked 
Colquhoun quietly as he flicked the ashes 
from his cigarette, "just what do you want?" 

"We want you!" 

"The charge against me being ?" 

"There are several," the detective declared 
harshly. "First, complicity in the murder 
of Daddy Heinz; second, complicity in the 
theft of the Brokaw Hamilton jewels, which 
was distinctly in the manner of The Hawk; 
again, a possible connection with the disap- 
pearance of a certain jeweled garter. Going 



i 4 2 MY LADY'S GARTER 

back some six or seven years, we want you 
for the Miller jewel robberies aggregating a 
hundred thousand dollars; and the Kendrick 
affair, and the disappearance of the " 

"That's quite enough," the young man 
interrupted. "I gather from all you've said 
that this person whom you call The Hawk 
is really wanted. And you say I am The 
Hawk?" 

"I intended to convey some such impres- 
sion," remarked Meredith, curtly. "You're 
not going to deny it, are you?" 

"Well, before you take me, before you so 
much as lay a finger on me, be sure I am The 
Hawk!" Some curious change had come 
into Colquhoun's manner. "And one other 
little thing. You have a warrant, of course? " 

"Yes." 

"Issued in the state of New York?" 

"Right." 

"Well, don't get excited and forget that I 
am now in the state of Massachusetts, and if 
it comes to a showdown your warrant is 
worthless here. " He paused to light a fresh 
cigarette. "I have no intention of being 
disagreeable, but Sit down again, and 
let's talk it all over. There's no hurry. " 

Detective Meredith obeyed the command 



i( I LOVE YOU!" 143 

automatically. Vaguely he felt somehow 
that he was losing ground; and once he 
glanced uneasily at Dexter. Imperturbable 
as ever, the Scotland Yard man was merely 
staring straight into Colquhoun's eyes. 

"Now, " and Colquhoun became the inquis- 
itor, "do you know personally this individual 
whom you call The Hawk?" 

"I do, yes." 

"You know him well, I suppose?" 

"I've seen him twice." Meredith failed 
to exhibit any enthusiasm as he answered. 

" Only twice ! And how long ago was that? 
Some six years, I imagine?" 

"Six years, yes; but " 

"Just a moment, please. You have a 
photograph of him?" 

"There's not a photograph of him in the 
world, so far as any one knows." 

" But you have, of course, a minute descrip- 
tion of him?" 

Meredith nodded emphatically, but it was 
Dexter who produced the printed slip which, 
half a dozen years previously, had been sent 
broadcast over the world. Colquhoun shifted 
his gaze to the Scotland Yard man. 

"Would you mind reading it? " he inquired. 

"Brown, wavy hair," said Dexter. 



144 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Right!" said Colquhoun. 

"Brown eyes." 

"Yes." 

"Clear olive complexion." 

"Yes." 

"Straight nose. 

"Yes." 

"Medium mouth, with rather full lips." 

"Correct." This from Meredith. 

"Perfect teeth." 

Colquhoun answered in the affirmative by 
smiling again. 

"Number 8 shoe." 

Detective Meredith picked up one of a 
pair beside the berth and examined it. 

"Seven and a half," he said. 

"Number 7 hat." 

Opening a locker beside him, Colquhoun 
took out a stiff hat and passed it to Mere- 
dith. 

"Seven and an eighth," he read. 

"Seven glove." Dexter was reading mo- 
notonously, raising his eyes each time to 
meet those of Colquhoun. 

"Correct," Colquhoun admitted. 

"Carriage straight." 

"Right." This, too, from Colquhoun. 

"About five feet ten inches tall." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 145 

"Five feet ten and a quarter," Colquhoun 
corrected. 

"Weight about " For the first time 
there was a change in Dexter's expression, 
and he raised his eyes to Colquhoun. 

"I said the description was perfect except 
in one minor detail," Meredith reminded 
them. "This thing of weight is the excep- 
tion." 

Colquhoun nodded and arose. 

"The description says," Dexter told them, 
"that his weight was about one hundred and 
eighty pounds." 

" I weigh just one hundred and forty-seven," 
said Colquhoun. 

"That's of no consequence," Meredith 
asserted. "Any man may lose weight." 

For half a minute, perhaps, the young man 
stood motionless and silent, staring at the 
two detectives. Dexter mechanically folded 
the printed slip and tucked it away; Mere- 
dith's eyes were blazing. 

"That's all of it? " Colquhoun demanded. 

"Except that I've seen you twice," Mere- 
dith pointed out; "except for the manner of 
your disappearance from New York; except 
for the fact that you changed the name of 
your boat and in addition there are a 

10 



i 4 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

hundred other trivial things, one of them being 
the fact that you knew me and called me by 
name when I entered this cabin." 

"I have seen your picture in half a dozen 
newspapers within the week in connection 
with the Brokaw Hamilton jewel case," 
Colquhoun told him, quietly. "Is it so very 
curious, after all, that I should know you?" 

"Why did you run away from us, then?" 

"That is for you to find out." Suddenly 
Colquhoun leaned across the table, resting 
on his hands, his face not more than two 
feet from Meredith's. "You want The 
Hawk," he taunted. "You've never seen 
him but twice, and that was six years ago. 
Now, am I the man you want? Have you 
ever seen me before in your life? Isn't it 
true that the description you have there would 
fit two out of every five young men you meet? 
You want The Hawk; you say you know him. 
Do you want me? Am I the man? 1 ' 

Dexter glanced from the tense face of 
the young man to the puzzled countenance 
of his fellow detective. Meredith leaned to 
one side, struck a match, and relighted his 
cigar. 

"Your description is purely superficial," 
Colquhoun declared in the same tone. "Do 



"I LOVE YOU!" 147 

you recognize my voice as The Hawk's? 
Have you a record of the ringer prints of 
,The Hawk? Or a rogue's gallery picture? 
Are there any distinguishing marks on his 
body? For instance, I am vaccinated on my 
right arm. Was The Hawk vaccinated on 
his right or left? The left is usual. Have 
you any " 

"Why did you change the name of your 
boat?" 

"Because I didn't like the other one." 
"And if you are not The Hawk, who are 
you?" 

"Bruce Colquhoun is my name." 
"But who are you? Where do you come 
from? What do you do? Why are you 
here?" 

"Those are things for you to find out." 
"You refuse to give any account of your- 
self at all?" 
"I do." 

There was a long, tense silence. Meredith 
was possibly the ablest man in the New York 
police department; and there were only rare 
occasions when he was in doubt. But now 
now! He glanced around rather help- 
lessly at Dexter; the gimlet-like eyes told 
him nothing. 



148 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"You know, of course," Colquhoun con- 
tinued suddenly, "that your New York 
warrant is worthless here in Massachusetts. 
Very well. If you really want me I'll waive 
my rights, surrender to you, and go back 
to New York with you now. If you want to 
search, I'll deliver over to you now keys to 
every drawer, every locker, every cupboard 
aboard this boat, and I'll empty my pockets 
on the table in front of you. But," and 
there was almost a menace in his voice, "if 
you fail to prove I am The Hawk I shall hold 
you responsible to the last fraction, legally 
and morally; and in addition to all that I'll 
make you the laughing stock of the police of 
the world. Do you want me?" 
Meredith only stared. Colquhoun turned 
away suddenly, drew a bunch of keys from 
his trousers, and they rattled on the table 
under Meredith's hands. Again he turned, 
this time to draw a long pocketbook from 
his coat. That, too, he tossed on the table. 
Meredith picked it up eagerly. 

"One moment before you open that," the 
young man interrupted. "You can't iden- 
tify me as The Hawk, and you know it 
perfectly. There are papers in that pocket- 
book that will identify me as some one other 



"I LOVE YOU!" 149 

than The Hawk, but if you open it to find I 
am not The Hawk I've told you what will 
happen. The same conditions apply to the 
keys. And your warrant was issued in New 
York!" 

He turned away suddenly and stood looking 
idly through a porthole into the night. Mere- 
dith and Dexter exchanged one quick glance, 
and Dexter shook his head almost imper- 
ceptibly. After a moment Meredith replaced 
the pocketbook on the table, gingerly. So, 
it happened that for an instant he had held 
the Countess of Salisbury's garter in his 
hand! Rising, he pushed the keys back 
toward Colquhoun. Dexter, too, arose; the 
young man turned. 

"I'm beginning to believe there has been 
some bally mistake, you know!" remarked 
the Scotland Yard man. 

"And you?" The young man shot the 
question at Meredith, curtly. 

"We all make mistakes sometimes," the 
detective admitted. He was staring straight 
into Colquhoun's eyes. "There's one more 
question I'd like " 

"Ask it if you like. I don't know that 
I'll answer it." 

"You were crouching against the wall 



ISO MY LADY'S GARTER 

there prepared to kill when we entered the 
cabin," Meredith reminded him. "If you 
were not expecting us whom were you 
expecting?" 

"I'll not answer the question," was the 
crisp reply. "I'll merely point out that if 
I had been The Hawk I would have killed 
you, wouldn't I?" 

Meredith didn't say. 

"That's all, I think," Bruce went on after 
a pause. "You decline to arrest me? Very 
well. I'll accept your apologies for the 
intrusion, and good night. I'm dead for 
sleep." 

Meredith and Dexter scrambled over the 
side of the Pyramid into their tender and 
rowed away. Colquhoun stared after them 
until they were swallowed up in the darkness, 
then went below. The pocketbook contain- 
ing the Countess of Salisbury's garter still 
lay on the table. 

"Gad, if he had opened it!" He laughed 
charmingly. 



CHAPTER V 

OLD Cap'n Barry pulled sturdily, at times 
almost vainly, against an ebbing tide 
which slid past his oars silently and smoothly 
as oil, grounded his dory, and with thin 
sinewy shanks bare to the knees, hopped 
out upon Peggotty Beach. Cicely Quain, 
curled upon the sands in bathing dress, 
watched him idly as he dexterously ran the 
light boat up the slant beyond reach of the 
lapping waters, and her eyes followed his as 
he turned around and stared out upon the 
heaving bosom of Bass' Cove. 

The sea was slow moving, mighty, and 
almost black, save far away at the foot of 
Third Cliff, where it broke with a sinister 
roar against the rocks, and shot a white 
cloud of spray high in air. Here and there 
were van-colored specks lobster-pot buoys; 
and close up in the foreground lay two 
large motor boats tugging savagely at their 
anchors. Cicely could barely make out the 
names the Pyramid the nearer one, and 
Maid-of-the-Sea farther out. 

"Ain't nothin' particular mean about the 
sea when the whitecaps are arunning, " the 



i S 2 MY LADY'S GARTER 

aged Cap'n remarked to her sociably, "it's 
just tricky, like a playful purp. But when 
it's still, and slick, and greasy lookin' like 
it is now, a man ain't got no more chance 
than a jay bird in " He didn't finish the 
sentence. "Likely lookin' la'nches out there, 
ben't they? Them two big ones, I mean. 
They came in last night." 

1 ' The Pyramid! ' ' exclaimed Cicely. "Isn't 
that a silly name for a boat?" 

"Look like they might go some both on 
'em," the old man commented. He turned 
and looked down upon her disapprovingly. 
"That water ain't safe to-day. You ain't 
agoing in it?" 

"Certainly I am." 

"Better not," he warned her. 

"Oh, I swim rather well," she assured him. 
"I'm not afraid." 

"Them's the only kind we ever have to 
haul out," he informed her placidly, "them 
as swims rather well and ain't afeard. If 
you was my daughter you wouldn't go in it." 

"How would you prevent it?" There was 
a disdainful smile in Cicely's lips, willfulness 
in the blue, blue eyes. 

"If you was my daughter and wanted to 
go in water like that I'd spank you!" With 



"I LOVE YOU!" 153 

which declaration of principles the old Cap'n 
stalked away through the sand. 

Half an hour passed. Two men appeared 
on the deck of the Maid-of-the-Sea, dropped 
the tender from its davits, and rowed ashore. 
There was something vaguely familiar in 
the figure and carriage of one of the men 
the one who leaped out upon the sand of 
the beach and Cicely caught herself staring 
at him curiously. Somewhere, sometime, she 
had seen him, but where where? As a 
matter of fact it was Detective Meredith of 
New York. Dexter, who remained in the 
tender, rowed back to the Maid-of-the-Sea. 

In all the glory of striped lavender and 
black bathing trunks Skeets Gaunt came 
down the beach just in time to see Cicely 
taking to the water. He called to her 
and she paused, with the miniature waves 
hissing about her feet. Skeets came on the 
run into the glare of disapprobation from 
her eyes. 

"I told you " she began. 

"If you will listen just a minute," he 
pleaded. 

"I will not listen!" she declared hotly. 
" If I had known my mother had ever thought 
of doing so foolish a thing as to ask you to 



154 MY LADY'S GARTER 

be our guest I should have oh, I don't know 
what I shouldn't have done!" 

"But, Helen Cicely you said ' 

"And if you," she raged, "had had one 
spark of consideration for me you would 
have declined her invitation. The idea! 
After all that's happened!" 

She walked out until the water caressed 
her knees, then plunged headfirst into an 
incoming billow, leaving Skeets angry, speech- 
less on the shore. He was vaguely conscious 
that an ideal was crumbling! Phew! Tem- 
per, that's all it was! A pleasant companion 
for a rainy Sunday! If she would only show 
him some consideration! 

Angry, without knowing why, Cicely swam 
on into the open on the breast of the ebbing 
tide, her sensuous red hair floating cloudily 
on the water, like brick dust. On past the 
Pyramid she went, and on past the Maid- 
of-the-Sea, heedless of all else save her anger. 

Skeets was aroused from an enveloping 
lethargy of gloom by a sharp cry which came 
faintly over the water. Instinct told him 
what it was Cicely was in trouble! She 
had turned shoreward, and out beyond the 
two motor boats was struggling against a 
treacherous sea which irresistibly swept her 



"I LOVE YOU!" 155 

back. With no thought of the dory near 
by, with no thought of his own weakness 
as a swimmer, with no thought in all the 
wide world except to get to her, Skeets 
ran headlong into the curling surf, and 
started. It was the spirit of old John 
Gaunt ! 

Again came the cry, stifled, gasping, chok- 
ing; and simultaneously appeared on the 
deck of the Pyramid a young man in bathing 
tights slender, almost boyish in figure, lithe, 
powerful, sinewy built like a steel bridge. 
Over the side of the boat he went with a 
mighty splash, to reappear half a minute 
later, swimming sailor fashion, almost on top 
of the water, toward Cicely. There was 
grace, and ease, and power in the stroke 
haste without hurry. Skeets, already weak- 
ening and tossed by the merciless tide, saw 
him, but swam on valiantly. 

Within five feet of Cicely, now barely able 
to keep afloat, Bruce Colquhoun paused, trod 
water, and looked her over critically. The 
girl reached for him, and failing, vanished 
for an instant. He waited calmly until the 
red head bobbed up again. 

"Now don't grab me!" he commanded. 

"I understand," she gurgled. 



i 5 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Put your hand on my shoulder and take 
it easy." 

She nodded, unable to speak. He came 
nearer, and an instant later her slender fingers 
found a resting place in the shoulder strap 
of his bathing shirt. Mechanically she con- 
tinued to kick. 

"Stop that!" Bruce ordered abruptly. 

Even in her present condition of exhaustion 
Cicely resented the tone, but as Bruce turned 
and swam slowly, fighting every inch of his 
way, toward the Pyramid, it was good to 
feel the rhythmical ripple of the sinews under 
the velvet of his skin good to know that 
here was the placid strength that meant 
life. All things seemed to be growing hazy. 
She didn't remember if she was angry with 
Skeets. It didn't really matter! There was 
just one thought in her mind: "Don't 
grab me!" 

Skeets, swimming from shore, was no 
more than half way to the Pyramid when, 
buffeted and hammered, he felt the weakness 
of exhaustion, and it was sheer will the will 
of old John Gaunt that kept him afloat. 

After a long time an angel came, an angel 
in a dory. An oar was thrust toward him, 
and a calm voice suggested: "Take hold of 



"I LOVE YOU!" 157 

this." He remembered vaguely that the 
angel a woman angel! hauled him aboard 
the rocking boat, and then all was blank! 

"If," hazily as if in a dream Cicely heard 
the words, "if you'll hang on to the stern of 
this boat a minute I'll climb aboard and haul 
you up. " 

She felt herself being lifted, and her hands 
closed on a brass rail to which she clung 
desperately. Ages elapsed. Then her grip 
on the rail was rudely broken, and she was 
lifted straight up from the sea by her extended 
arms, and planked down on deck, sitting. 
Again ages passed. 

A thin stream of something hot and 
stinging trickled down her throat, and she 
opened her blue, blue eyes. 

"You ought to know better than to go in 
water like that!" So, frowningly, her res- 
cuer. Not a word of sympathy, or solici- 
tude only the curt, crisp rebuke of a rather 
good-looking young man with wavy brown 
hair. "You should have known better." 

For no reason at all Cicely suddenly felt 
like crying. He was scolding her scolding 
her Helen Hamilton that is, Cicely Quain; 
she had never been scolded in her life 
and he, an utter stranger, was scolding her! 



158 MY LADY'S GARTER 

The inclination to weep was lost in a weak 
little wave of indignation. 

"I'm not usually in the habit of of con- 
sulting strange young men as to what kind 
of water I get into," she retorted. She felt, 
somehow, that was the right thing to say. 

'Well, if you've no more judgment than 
you showed to-day you'd better consult 
somebody" Bruce pulled a pillow through 
the window of the cabin and placed it behind 
her back. "Being a strange young man, 
I'll introduce myself. My name is Colqu- 
houn Bruce Colquhoun. " 

"And my name is is Cicely Quain. " 

"Here, take another swallow of brandy." 

"I don't want it." 

"Take it!" That's all there was to it; 
a quick, abrupt command. She took it. 
"Cicely Quain! That isn't the name I saw 
under -your picture in all the New York 
newspapers the other day." 

"Indeed?" It was very inadequate, but 
it was all she could think of; and the brandy 
burned her throat. 

"You are Helen Hamilton of New York," 
said Bruce. "I know you, of course." 

"I'm not! My name is Cicely Quain.' 

"Have it your way, then." Whereupon 



"I LOVE YOU!" 159 

her rescuer made a megaphone of his hands 
and bawled to some one on shore: "Is he 
all right?" 

"Yes," faintly came the answer in a 
woman's voice. 

Was who all right? Cicely wondered. 
But, really, it didn't matter. She was very 
tired, very sleepy. For an instant she closed 
her eyes. It was indignation alone that 
caused her to open them again. 

"You are used to having your way, I 
imagine," Bruce was saying. 

"I'm not," she denied. 

"You are willful and spoiled." 

"I'm not." 

"And argumentative," he added. 

"I am not!" 

"You are proving everything I say. It 
was sheer willfulness that made you go into 
dangerous water to-day. No sane person 
would have attempted to swim in it." 

"You were going to swim," she pointed 
out, almost triumphantly. "You're dressed 
for the water." 

"The ocean is my bathtub," he informed 
her. "I was merely going over the side and 
crawl back and have some breakfast." 

Breakfast! _ It seemed age? since breakfast. 



160 MY LADY'S GARTER 

He hadn't had breakfast; and it must be 
nearly noon. It seemed strange, and sad, 
and important out of all proportion! 

"I'm a very good cook," she murmured 
irrelevantly. 

"So am I." 

Came a hail from the beach and he turned. 
A dory was putting out a dory in which 
sat Skeets Gaunt, himself again, thanks to 
the ministrations of Cap'n Barry and the 
girl who had rescued him. August von Derp 
was at the oars; he rowed, even, with that 
singular mathematical precision that had 
once before attracted Skeets' attention to 
him. 

"If I'm not mistaken, some one is coming 
for you," Bruce told her. "Take a word of 
advice from me. Go home and go to bed, 
and hereafter don't go in water like it is 
to-day." 

"I object to you telling me " 

"I know you do," Bruce interrupted. 
"You are spoiled. You don't like any one 
to tell you what's best for you." 

Cicely struggled to her feet in a rage; and 
wabbled weakly on the swaying boat. There 
was something placid, and complacent, and 
masterful about Bruce Colquhoun some- 



"I LOVE YOU!" 161 

thing that angered her. He had talked to 
her as if she were a child! She stamped one 
foot. 

"I'll have to thank you, of course, for 
saving my life," she began, grudgingly. 

Bruce shrugged his shoulders, and idly 
took a half hitch in an awning line. 

"But but I don't think" 

"Your friends are here." 

"Cicely!" Skeets, standing in the dory, 
was calling. 

"But, I'm sure," the girl rushed on, "that 
you are the only man in the world who 
would have taken advantage of my position 
to be so so offensively frank." 

Bruce stared straight into the blue, blue 
eyes, then coiled a line and flung it to the 
dory. Skeets caught it, and they pulled 
alongside. Cicely declined his assistance, 
but stepped into the dory with smouldering 
eyes. While Skeets busied himself making 
her comfortable, von Derp took advantage 
of the delay to thank Bruce. 

"If you'll permit me, Mr.?" 

"Colquhoun." 

"Mr. Colquhoun," von Derp pronounced 
the name curiously, "if you'll permit me, I'll 
express to you on behalf of Mrs. Quain her 



162 MY LADY'S GARTER 

thanks for your heroism in saving her daugh- 
ter's life. She has heard, and is almost 
prostrated." 

"Be good enough to convey my compli- 
ments to Mrs. Hamilton," Bruce said dis- 
tinctly, "and assure her that my services 
would not have been necessary if her daughter 
had had the discretion to remain out of 
dangerous waters." 

Von Derp looked slightly bewildered, then 
lifted his hat, bowed elaborately, and rowed 
away. Bruce Colquhoun caught a noon 
train into Boston. Curiously enough, Dex- 
ter, too, was on that train. Later in the day 
von Derp went up to drive down a new motor 
car he had just purchased. 

That night happened the first of a series of 
mysterious robberies. It was the burglary of 
a splendid mansion in Brookline, a suburb 
of Boston the Holmes place. Jewels and 
plate valued roughly at forty thousand dol- 
lars were taken. On a table in the dining 
room a card was found. It bore one line: 

"Regards to Mr. Meredith. 

"THE HAWK." 



CHAPTER VI 

SOME one has said somewhere at some 
time something to the effect generally 
that if one pursues fame, or fortune, or 
woman really, I've forgotten which she 
will flee him; but if one flouts her, she 
fame, or fortune, or woman, whichever it 
happens to be will come and eat out of 
his hand. I'm not certain as to the phrase- 
ology of that opinion, but I can vouch for the 
truth of it. I know, because this very thing 
happened in the case of Cicely Quain vs. 
Skeets Gaunt, August von Derp, Bruce 
Colquhoun, et al. 

Skeets adored Cicely with an ardor proven 
by his foolish but none the less heroic effort 
to save her life and she was not even courte- 
ous to him; August von Derp's attitude was 
made plain by an occasional word and a wor- 
shipful humility in his eyes and she never 
gave him a thought. 

But Bruce Colquhoun! He had scolded 
her, flouted her, almost insulted her and 
she couldn't drive him out of her mind. 
There was something mysterious, compel- 
ling, fascinating in his masterful arrogance \, 

163 



164 MY LADY'S GARTER 

and in spite of herself she was attracted to 
him by the very qualities which, ordinarily, 
would have repelled her. Logically, there- 
fore, she hated him for it. But one can't 
really make a good job of hating unless one 
constantly bears in mind the object of 
hatred, so Cicely found the memory of Bruce 
Colquhoun always with her. 

There were moments when she caught 
herself remembering, with an odd little thrill 
and quickened pulse, the rhythmical ripple 
of the sinews under the velvet of his skin as 
he had fought for her life, and his own, 
against that treacherous tide. Even in the 
haziness of utter exhaustion she had been so 
certain of him ! Always the memory brought 
a flood of color to her cheeks; then, mock- 
ingly, would come the thought that he had 
scolded her scolded her! And so she would 
fall to hating him again. 

On the morning following the near-trage- 
dies Skeets cornered Cicely in the pergola 
of the Italian garden at Stepping Stones, and 
there made an issue of his affairs. 

"I won't permit you to make a fool of me ! " 
he declared, quite unlike a poet. "You did 
love me once until that silly thing about 
stealing jewels, and garters, and things " 



"I LOVE YOU!" 165 

"Why," and Cicely was staring into the 
void of heaven with lackluster eyes, "why 
did you steal them? " 

"I didn't steal them! You know I didn't 
steal them! Anybody with horse sense could 



see" 



"I beg your pardon!" And the blue, blue 
eyes flashed into his with sudden fire. "I 
beg your pardon!" 

Skeets felt chilled to the bone; wisely he 
relinquished his tone of bluster. 

"You know I love you, don't you?" 

"Then, why did you steal " 

"And you did love me," Skeets hastened 
on. "Now why this misunderstanding?" 
She didn't say. "If you loved me ten days 
ago well enough to elope with me, and if I 
am innocent of all these absurd charges, why 
this this this?' 1 He gave it up. "Why 
are you so different?" 

"Oh," languidly, "just because." 

"Because what?" 

"Oh, Skeets, you annoy me. I don't 
know whether I love you or not. I don't 
think I do. You are a nice boy, and you were 
very brave yesterday when you were almost 
drowned, but Run along now, like a good 
fellow." She regarded him curiously. "I 



166 MY LADY'S GARTER 

I don't think I ever loved you at all. Isn't 
it funny?" 

Skeets arose, glared at her for an instant, 
and took his outraged vanity away with him, 
down the drive. His step was singularly 
jaunty in one who had just met an emo- 
tional deathblow. He'd go straight and 
thank that girl who had hauled him out of 
the water. Already he had thanked her 
twice, and sent flowers, and called; but her 
hair, too, was brick red; and her eyes, too, 
were blue, blue! Gad, he'd thank her once 
more for luck! Mercy Dale! That was her 
name, a curious old New England name, 
quaint and sweetly pretty. 

Cicely was aroused from her dreaminess 
by the precise voice of von Derp. His new 
motor car, which he had driven down from 
Boston that morning, stood in front of the 
door lean, and gray, and powerful looking. 
He was asking her to join him for a spin 
through the country, but it was only an 
excuse to make love to her, so she shook her 
head. Why would men insist on making 
love to her? She was in no mood for it. 
She'd stroll down to Peggotty Beach away 
from it all, and leave von Derp to ride alone. 
She might see Colquhoun, of course, but he 



"I LOVE YOU!" 167 

at least wouldn't make love to her. He 
might scold her again, but he wouldn't make 
love to her. By this time he must have 
received her contrite little note of apology 
and thanks, for he had saved her life; and 
with it, her mother's note inviting him to 
call at Stepping Stones so that she, the 
mother, might thank him personally for his 
heroism. 

Apparently von Derp dismissed the idea 
of a drive, and adapting his step to hers, 
walked along beside her. Vaguely she was 
conscious of a running stream of small talk 
which seemed as endless as it was useless. 
She wondered if Bruce would accept her 
mother's invitation! Ceaselessly von Derp's 
voice rippled through her moodiness. 

"I count myself most fortunate that your 
father should have so signally honored me," 
he was saying. 

"How?" Cicely queried, dully. 

"By admitting me to the inner circle of 
his family, as he has done," was the reply. 
"Friendships made in that way are lasting, 
and sometimes they lead " 

Cicely turned squarely and faced him. 
There was a belligerent gleam in the depths 
of her eyes, and the rosebud lips straightened 



1 68 MY LADY'S GARTER 

themselves into a thin line. Coolly she sur- 
veyed him from his lemon-colored hair to 
his speckless boots, corking down in her 
mind his every oddity of dress and person. 

"Sometimes they lead where?" she de- 
manded. 

The yellow-topped exquisite shrugged his 
shoulders and didn't say. Misinterpretation 
of her mood was impossible. He had chosen 
the wrong moment, and was quick to see it. 

They walked on in silence, past the little 
cottages, until the beach opened before them. 
The Pyramid bobbed idly on a sea as blue 
as turquoise; and out a little farther the 
Maid-of-the-Sea lazily strained at her anchor. 
Her tender was just putting off, with two 
men in it. 

Again Cicely was struck with the thought 
that somewhere at some time she had met 
one of these men. She paused and watched 
him curiously as he landed and came toward 
her. He would have passed on, heedlessly, 
but she recognized him and in her surprise 
involuntarily called his name. 

"Mr. Meredith!" 

He looked up quickly and stopped. 

"Why, it's Miss" 

' ' Quain, ' ' she interrupted quickly. ' ' I met 



"I LOVE YOU!" 169 

you in New York a few days ago, you remem- 
ber, in the" 

"I remember perfectly." The detective's 
eye traveled up and down the immaculate 
figure of von Derp, after which he turned to 
the girl again, inquiringly: "Quain? Why 
are you here?" 

"My mother and I are in in retirement, 
shall I say?" Cicely explained. "We've 
been here more than a week. " 

"I see," Meredith commented. 

"But why why are you here?" 

The detective glanced again at von Derp, 
meaningly. Cicely took the hint. 

"Mr. von Derp, allow me Mr. Mere- 
dith," she introduced. "Mr. von Derp is a 
friend of my father's." 

The two men shook hands, Meredith with 
the scant courtesy of a busy man, and von 
Derp with an elaboration of detail which 
made a social function of a simple intro- 
duction. 

"What name, please?" asked the detective. 

"Von Derp August von Derp, of Hol- 
land." 

"Von Derp," Meredith repeated. "Once 
I make sure of a name I never forget it, any 
more than I ever forget a face." Von Derp 



1 70 MY LADY'S GARTER 

smiled courteously; Meredith turned to 
Cicely: "Why am I here? I'm here be- 



cause " 



And he stopped abruptly, as if amazed. 
Coming across the sands toward them was 
Bruce Colquhoun. With no word of excuse 
or explanation Detective Meredith left them 
and hurried forward to meet Bruce. They 
came face to face, out of hearing of the girl 
and her companion. 

"You found it necessary to stay in town 
all night, I see?" There was marked empha- 
sis in the detective's voice, almost an accusa- 
tion in his direct gaze. 

" I judge from your manner that you didn't 
expect me to come back at all?" Bruce 
remarked, crisply. "Am I right? Very 
well, I'm here. I shook off your man Dexter 
ten minutes after I reached Boston. He's 
a child at trailing. Tell him so, with my 
compliments." 

Meredith's teeth snapped. He too, like 
Cicely, felt the strength of this man behind 
the placid exterior. 

"And it was absolutely necessary to shake 
him off?" he demanded. 

"To do what I had to do, yes." Bruce 
was quite calm about it. "I thought I'd 



"I LOVE YOU!" 171 

convinced you that I'm not the man you 
want?" 

"You ^ave, " Meredith assured him, with 
an inward smile at some subtle thing which 
was not apparent. "You have convinced 
me, but you haven't proved you are not the 
man I want. I'm going to ask you to prove 
it, now." 

"Very well. How?" 

"I'm going to ask you," and the detective 
spoke measuredly, meaningly, the while his 
keen eyes searched the undisturbed face of 
the young man, "I'm going to ask you to 
write a few words on a slip of paper for 
me!" 

Colquhoun merely stared at him ques- 
tioningly. If there was anything save a 
question in his countenance it was not given 
to the New York man to fathom it; or even 
to isolate it. 

"Is that all?" Bruce asked. "Just what 
words, may I ask?" 

"I want you to write the words, 'Regards 
to Mr. Meredith, 1 and sign it, 'The Hawk!' ' 

"Oh, just a trifle of forgery, eh?" Colqu- 
houn taunted. "So, you're going to connect 
me with that Brookline affair? Very well. 
I'll write it for you but in the presence of 



172 MY LADY'S GARTER 

witnesses. Here are two Mr. von Derp 
and Miss Quain. They'll do." 

Cicely was distinctly disappointed, and 
fuel was added to her indignation by the fact 
that Bruce didn't once ask, in greeting her, 
how she felt, or whether she had recovered, 
or or anything important like that. Instead 
he merely lifted his hat, bobbed his head, 
and then curtly: 

"Mr. Meredith requests me to write a 
phrase for him," he explained. "I've agreed 
to do it in the presence of witnesses. I have 
a fountain pen here. Please remember the 
phrase: 'Regards to Mr. Meredith. The 
Hawk. 1 He was writing as he spoke. 
"In the upper right-hand corner of this slip 
of paper I am placing a distinguishing mark 
so that by no chance will this particular slip 
ever be confused with another. Please ob- 
serve it." 

He had written on the back of the long 
pocket-book which contained the Countess 
of Salisbury's garter! He held the paper in 
front of Cicely and von Derp. Within a 
circle he had made three hieroglyphs. 

"Letters of the Phoenician alphabet, that's 
all," he explained as he handed the slip to 
Meredith. "I'll tell you that, to relieve the 



"I LOVE YOU!" 173 

convolutions of brain which may afflict your 
handwriting expert when he sees them. I'll 
ask you, Miss Quain, and you, Mr. von Derp, 
to remember that I called attention to them." 

There was a ludicrous expression of cunning 
gone wrong on the face of Detective Meredith, 
and into that of von Derp came a change, too 
a subtle nothing that might have been com- 
prehension, or again it might not have been. 

"If you'll express to your mother, Miss 
Quain, my appreciation of her invitation to 
call I shall be deeply obliged," Bruce con- 
tinued casually. The girl was staring at 
him, wide-eyed; all at once everything seemed 
so mysterious, and intangibly threatening. 
"I shall give myself the pleasure of seeing her 
this afternoon; that is, of course," and he 
questioned Meredith with his eyes, "if a 
certain legal paper, issued by the Common- 
wealth of Massachusetts, is not served upon 
me before? In that event I'll be compelled 
to run over to New York?" 

It was a question, a taunt, a blatant jeering 
at the long arm of the law. He was referring 
to the new warrant which Meredith had 
in his pocket; the detective understood, and 
shook his head sadly. 



CHAPTER VII 

WITH that precious specimen of Bruce 
Colquhoun's chirography clasped 
fondly to his bosom, Detective Meredith went 
tearing out of Satuit into Boston with a low, 
rushing sound. There, in the lair of the 
handwriting expert, he hoped for just one 
word to connect the message left by The 
Hawk in the Brookline robbery with its 
verbal duplicate obligingly furnished by Bruce 
Colquhoun for one word would be as illum- 
inating as a searchlight on this odd problem 
of identity. Automatically, the vacuum 
created by the detective's departure was 
filled by the appearance in Satuit of half a 
dozen keen, shrewd-eyed plain-clothes men 
summoned from New York. Dexter, seem- 
ingly, had vanished into thin air. 

Meredith hoped for the best without expect- 
ing it. The more he considered it the more 
improbable it seemed that Bruce would have 
so willingly given the specimen asked for 
if he had written the one found after the 
robbery. Then, too, there was a possibility 
that The Hawk in person had not written this 
last at all. He must have had an accomplice, 

174 



"I LOVE YOU!" 175 

or accomplices, so But anyway it was 
worth while submitting the two to an expert 
for his opinion! And Meredith compelled 
himself to hope for light. 

Professor Wayne, often employed by the 
police department of Boston, made an imme- 
diate comparison of the two specimens of 
handwriting to oblige the impatient New 
York officer. For two hours or more he 
labored in silence with enlarging camera, 
magnifying glasses, microscopes, acids, and 
what not. Meredith's eyes were fairly 
blazing when the expert turned to him at 
last. 

"It's the same handwriting, " said Professor 
Wayne. " The specimens were written under 
different conditions, at different times, with 
different pens and ink, but the habits of the 
pen" 

"Never mind the details now," the detec- 
tive interrupted. "It is the same, beyond 
doubt?" 

"It is." 

"You will swear to that in a court of law?" 

"I will." 

A great joy was bubbling in Detective 
Meredith's heart. At last he was about to 
put his hand on The Hawk! He had no fear 



176 MY LADY'S GARTER 

of Bruce Colquhoun's escape, for half a dozen 
men were there with orders to keep him in 
sight every moment. And while he was at 
it, he'd just cinch his proof against Colquhoun. 
Straightway he went to another handwriting 
expert; the words of two on this one point 
would be incontrovertible! 

Meanwhile, in Satuit, Detective Meredith's 
instructions were being followed minutely 
by his half dozen satellites. Two of them 
were lounging on the beach when Bruce 
Colquhoun came ashore from the Pyramid, 
and he paused to stare at them curiously 
with a singular grim tightening of his lips 
before he turned into the winding road 
toward Stepping Stones. One of the men 
sauntered on after him idly, whipping the 
roadside weeds with a slender switch. 

Bruce stopped abruptly and waited for 
him to come up. 

"You're one of Meredith's men, aren't 
you?" he asked, briskly. 

"I I beg your pardon?" The plain- 
clothes man was obviously disconcerted. 

"I merely wanted to know," Bruce 
explained, "I don't mind if you follow me 
about; but I must know who you are." A 
boisterous wind obliged him; it flipped open 



"I LOVE YOU!" 177 

the coat of the plain-clothes man, showing 
his badge. "Oh, all right!" 

Bruce went on up the road. Cicely Quain, 
coming down the drive from Stepping Stones 
on her way to the village, nodded to him 
brightly, and he walked on beside her. The 
man who had been following Bruce dropped 
back; another idler, who had paused on the 
causeway to toss stones into the tide, took 
up the trail. At this man, too, Bruce had 
stared curiously for an instant. 

All conversations begin with banalities; 
this one did. The interchange of small talk, 
however, gave Cicely opportunity to study 
this mysterious young man, and she did it 
at her leisure from beneath the wide sun hat 
which shadowed the blue, blue eyes, and 
darkened the brick red of her hair. She 
insisted to herself that she still hated him; 
but a woman's curiosity is greater than a 
simple little passion like hate. 

''I I didn't know you were acquainted 
with Mr. Meredith? " Cicely remarked, irrele- 
vantly. 

"I only met him the other night," Bruce 
explained. "I almost shot him." 

Cicely gave him a quick, startled look; he 
didn't seem to notice. 



178 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Why?" 

"He came blundering aboard my motor 
boat when he had no business there, " he told 
her placidly. "I wasn't certain who it was, 
and if I hadn't recognized him I should have 
killed him." 

That stopped the conversation for a few 
minutes. Somehow Cicely couldn't think of 
the next thing to say, though her curiosity 
was nearing the boiling point. 

"How did it happen?" she asked at last. 

"Meredith chased me all the way from New 
London in the Maid-of-the-Sea under the im- 
pression that I was another man. I tried to 
escape under the impression that he was an- 
other man. It seems we were both mistaken. ' ' 

' ' Does that account for that that curious 
thing about that thing where you wrote 
something and gave it to him?" 

"Yes," Bruce elucidated tranquilly. "He 
still thinks I'm the other man, but he can't 
prove it." 

"Who is he this other man?" 

"A notorious criminal The Hawk, Mere- 
dith calls him. It seems he is wanted for 
murder, and jewel thefts, and all sorts of 
things, among others complicity in the disap- 
pearance of your jewels." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 179. 

"Oh!" Cicely was staring up into his face 
with wide-open eyes. "If he thinks you are 
The The Hawk, why don't you tell him who 
you really are?" 

"It's none of his business." 

"But he's a detective?" 

"That doesn't make it his business to 
know who I am. It is sufficient for him to 
know that I am not The Hawk." 

There was a tiny gleam of indignation in 
the girl's eyes, glowing spots in her cheeks. 
Helen Hamilton's father, under similar cir- 
cumstances, would have expected a storm. 

" No honorable man, " she declared, "would 
have any objection to the world knowing 
who and what he is." 

" Do you think so? " He didn't seem to be 
offended. 

"I do," emphatically. 

"Well, you don't know what you are 
talking about." 

The glowing spots in Cicely's cheeks spread 
until her face was suffused she was just plain 
mad at the calm insolence of this this 
creature! Her small hands closed angrily. 

"Being of the world, I personally should 
like to know who you are, ' ' she taunted. "Of 
course, if there is anything disreputable in " 



i8o MY LADY'S GARTER 

"I am Bruce Colquhoun, " he said. 

"But beyond that?" There was mockery 
in her voice. "Don't you dare say? Am I 
to assume after all that Mr. Meredith is not 
mistaken?" 

"It's immaterial to me what you assume. 
I can't tell you who I am." 

"You mean you won't?" 

"If you prefer it that way." 

Cicely laughed, not because she was amused, 
but high tempers grow under red heads; and 
some laughs are merely outward manifes- 
tations of high tempers. Turning, Bruce 
regarded her gravely. 

"It's very mysterious, and theatric, isn't 
it?" she demanded. "Really, I find it most 
amusing! A man afraid and ashamed to say 
who he is!" 

Came some subtle change in Bruce's man- 
ner. For an instant he stared at her stared 
until the color paled in her cheeks and the 
mockery vanished from her lips. There was 
something deep in his eyes that moved her 
strangely; she was seeing through a mist. 

"I should like very much to make you 
understand," he said slowly. "I don't be- 
lieve it has ever occurred to me as worth 
while to try to make any one else understand. 



"I LOVE YOU!" i8r 

But if I told you the reason for the necessity 
of concealing my identity, you would either 
laugh, or not believe me?" 

It was a question. Cicely felt vaguely 
that she was being put upon honor, and being 
Cicely, she resented it. 

"I don't always laugh," she retorted, "and 
sometimes melodrama is good enough to 
believe." 

"I'll go so far as to say that Bruce Colqu- 
houn isn't my name at all," Bruce continued 
gravely, ' ' any more than Cicely Quain is yours. 
I'll go farther, and say that my life may 
depend upon my ability to keep my identity 
secret. It is melodrama, isn't it? Very 
well. With your permission, now we'll 
change the subject. " 

He glanced behind them; Meredith's satel- 
lite was still trailing at a respectful distance. 

Cicely's brain was in a tumult. He was 
masquerading; Bruce Colquhoun wasn't his 
name! His life was in danger, he had said. 
Was he The Hawk? As she understood it, 
The Hawk's life was forfeit to the law for 
murder! Was he ? The thought startled 
her, frightened her ! Her mother had received 
him in their own home. Suppose he should 
be! Of a sudden she was seized with fear. 



1 82 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Her first thought was to leave him there in 
the road. A half cry rose to her lips; there 
was horror in her eyes. 

"I beg your pardon, really," Bruce apol- 
ogized in the same serious tone, and there 
was still that indefinable something deep in 
his brown eyes. "I didn't mean to frighten 
you. I'm not a thing to be afraid of. " 

The calm gravity of his voice dissipated 
the little panic which was upon her; she 
found herself standing her ground valiantly. 

"Why why do you stay here?" she asked 
with an odd tight feeling in her throat. 
"Why don't you go?" 

"I have no intention of going," was the 
reply, and again he gazed gravely into the 
blue, blue eyes until she looked away, embar- 
rassed. "I like it here." 

Yet ten minutes later, as they sat together 
on the veranda of the quaint little tea room 
where three charming ladies served them, 
he announced, without apparent reason, a 
possible change in his plans. He had leaned 
forward to look at a stranger passing; Cicely's 
eyes followed his. The stranger was distinctly 
foreign in appearance; Italian or Russian, 
she judged hastily from the scant glimpse 
of him. Bruce settled back in his chair. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 183 

"There is a possibility, after all," he said 
quietly, "that I shall go away." 

" Why? " Cicely's bewilderment was evident. 

"Because," he replied enigmatically, "be- 
cause that man is here!" 

I'll go ahead of myself to say that Cicely 
hated Bruce Colquhoun so much that she 
was unable to sleep that night for thinking 
of him. 

Dr. Harvey, the second handwriting expert 
to whom Meredith submitted The Hawk's 
message, together with the specimen of Bruce's 
chirography, handed them back, and shook 
his head. 

"They are not the same," he said em- 
phatically. "There is not a single point of 
resemblance between them." 

"But but " And Meredith's mouth 
opened in his astonishment. 

"There is absolutely not one character- 
istic in common; they are totally uncon- 
nected." 

The detective went his way in a daze. 
He called Professor Wayne, whose expert 
opinion had been directly opposed to this, 
on the telephone. 

"Who the deuce is this Dr. Harvey?" 



184 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Meredith demanded curtly.' "Is he a first- 
class man? Does he know his business?" 

"Dr. Harvey?" Professor Wayne repeated. 
"Why, to my mind he is the greatest hand- 
writing expert in the world. I'd set his 
judgment before that of any man living. 
What did he say?" 

Meredith didn't tell him. 



CHAPTER VIII 

"\\ 7HERE," asked Mrs. Quain at din- 

VV ner, "where is Skeets?" 

"He is down thanking Miss Dale for sav- 
ing his life," Cicely told her. 

"Where," asked Mrs. Quain, at luncheon 
on the following day, "where is Skeets?" 

"He is down thanking Miss Dale for saving 
his life," Cicely responded as before. 

"Again?" Mrs. Quain questioned with 
uplifted brows. "Or or merely yet?" 

Cicely shrugged her shoulders, and made it 
plain by a slight movement of her hands that 
the matter was of no consequence to her. 
Von Derp smiled with mathematical precision. 

"Don't you think," he observed with a 
trifling cynical curl of his lips, "that he 
is grateful in excess of the actual value of 
services rendered? " 

He may have intended it merely as a wit- 
ticism, but Cicely didn't smile. Instead, she 
shot an antagonistic glance at von Derp, for 
after all, Skeets was her own personal prop- 
erty, and not a butt for a Dutchman to hurl 
ponderous jokes at! I am merely recording 
her own thoughts. 

185 



i86 MY LADY'S GARTER 

And, as a matter of fact, Cicely had done 
Skeets an injustice. He was not thanking 
sweet Mercy Dale. Already he had per- 
formed that matutinal rite, and now, with 
coat off and hair rumpled poetically, he was 
in the workroom of the tiny study on the 
lawn making some experiments in the gentle 
craft of verse writing. Here and there in 
some of his poems he was changing "Helen" 
to "Mercy" not that he meant anything 
by it; it was purely an experiment. For 
instance : 

" O Helen, thy hair is an aura of gold 

O Helen! 

O Helen, thine eyes hold a secret untold 
O Helen!" 

With a few deft strokes of his pen this had 
been transformed into a classical appeal, 
after this fashion: 

" O Mercy, thy hair is an aura of gold 

O Mercy! 

O Mercy, thine eyes hold a secret untold 
O Mercy!" 

Skeets regarded this astonishing product 
of his labors with dubious eyes, then sighed 
deeply, and realized he was late for luncheon. 
As he entered the dining room with an 



"I LOVE YOU!" 187 

apology, Cicely smiled upon him dazzlingly, 
then ostentatiously tilted her charming nose 
at von Derp, who had dared to fling a casual 
javelin of wit in his direction. There had 
been a time only a day or so before when 
Skeets would have been ague-stricken with 
delight at that smile; now he inquired what 
kind of soup they had. 

"We dine aboard the Pyramid to-night," 
Mrs. Quain announced. "Mr. Colquhoun 
assures me he can seat the four of us com- 
fortably." 

Cicely, von Derp, and Skeets glanced up 
at her simultaneously, with widely varying 
expressions. To Cicely had come a thought 
had come, did I say? It had been with her 
constantly! a thought of her conversation 
with Bruce on the day before; and here her 
mother, unconscious of the suspicions envel- 
oping him, was about to accept his invitation 
to dinner! True, he might be all that he 
should be, and again he might be, for all they 
knew, The Hawk in person! There was 
always the chance that Detective Meredith 
was right. 

"But but, mother," she faltered, "are 
you sure we we want to to " 

"I'm sure I do," was the placid response. 



1 88 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"It threatens to be a distinct novelty. Mr. 
Colquhoun is the cook." 

"But we don't know this man?" Cicely 
protested. "He may be anybody, an object 
of suspicion? He is a man of mystery, refus- 
ing to say who or what he is! He may even 
be a thief?" 

"I have never had dinner with a thief," 
and Mrs. Quain smiled. "I'm sure I should 
enjoy it once." 

"Or or even a murderer!" Cicely went 
on. 

"Nor have I ever dined with a murderer, " 
said Mrs. Quain, unruffled. 

"The mere fact that he saved my life," 
Cicely continued desperately, "doesn't place 
us under any obligation to eat his dinners." 

There was a curious smile on von Derp's 
face a smile of toleration for the eccentrici- 
ties of rich Americans, if Skeets' analysis was 
correct. 

"What is the cause of all these suspi- 
cions?" Mrs. Quain queried of Cicely. "Mr. 
Colquhoun called here at my invitation, and 
I found him, outwardly at least, all that a 
gentleman should be. Why are you sus- 
picious?" 

"Oh, I don't know!" Cicely arose suddenly 



"I LOVE YOU!" 189 

and turned away from the table. She paused 
in the dining-room door, and faced them. 
"Did any of you ever hear of a notorious 
criminal called The Hawk?" 

''The Hawk!" mused Mrs. Quain. 

"The Hawk!" echoed von Derp. 

Skeets' mind was far away, groping through 
a chaos of words for a rhyme for Mercy. 
The only one he could think of was Percy. 

Helen ran on: 

"This man Colquhoun is suspected of 
being The Hawk, and Detective Meredith is 
here trying to prove it. Don't ask me how 
I know, but I do know! I may add that The 
Hawk is, among other things, believed to 
have been concerned in the theft of my 
jewels." 

She went out. Von Derp questioned his 
hostess with a glance. She smiled. 

"It would be odd, wouldn't it, if it should 
develop that Mr. Colquhoun is The Hawk, 
and that he did steal Cicely's jewels, and 
later entertained us at dinner?" she asked. 
"If there had been any doubt as to whether 
or not we should have accepted his invitation, 
it is gone now." 

Von Derp's eyes opened, then narrowed. 
It occurred to him suddenly that romance 



i 9 o MY LADY'S GARTER 

always pictured beautiful maids as being 
peculiarly susceptible to the fascinations of 
good-looking young men who saved them from 
drowning; it behooved him to be up and 
doing. Wherefore it followed that he joined 
Mrs. Quain in the conservatory for his after- 
luncheon cigarette, and then and there put 
the case to her plainly. 

In his earnestness Mrs. Quain saw him for 
the first time shorn of the trivial little niceties 
of manner which smacked so strongly of 
European boulevards and she almost liked 
him for it. It was refreshing to see a young 
man eager, ardent, human in the sway of 
that greatest of all emotions love. All at 
once he lapsed again into that precise, stilted, 
ultra-courteous way she disliked. 

" I love your daughter, " he concluded, with 
an odd change in his voice. "I have not told 
her so, nor shall I until I receive permission 
to pay my addresses. I realize I am speaking 
now of matters which, properly, I should 
discuss with her father, but he is not here, 
and if you 

" It's a matter you will have to discuss with 
him," Mrs. Quain told him gently. "And 
frankly, I don't believe such such an alliance 
would meet with his approval. I'm not 



"I LOVE YOU!" 191 

saying this to pain you; I'm saying it merely 
to save you a disappointment." 

Von Derp bowed very low, and with- 
drew. A few minutes later Mrs. Quain saw 
his lean gray motor car swing down the 
driveway, and go scuttling off toward the 
telegraph office. He was driving. It was 
nearly six o'clock in the afternoon when he 
returned. 

Bruce caught his guests, one after another, 
staring at him curiously as he received them 
aboard the Pyramid an interest born, he 
was certain, of something they had heard 
concerning him. It could only be that. 
Twice he looked inquiringly at Cicely, and 
twice she looked away guiltily, her face rose- 
red. Suddenly she was overcome with the 
thought that she had betrayed his confidence 
and it had been a confidence. All at once 
it seemed horrid, and unfair to him. If she 
had only stopped to think! 

Bruce welcomed his guests, then with a 
word of apology vanished into the tiny galley, 
leaving them alone in the cabin. There was 
an odd little restraint over all a silence born 
of some queer psychological condition. The 
silence was broken at last by Skeets, who had 
discovered a phonograph. He chucked it 



i 9 2 MY LADY'S GARTER 

over on a berth and began rummaging for 
the records. Finally: 

"Where are your phonograph records?" 
he called. 

"In one of the drawers of the table," and 
Colquhoun thrust his head out of the galley. 
"There beside you, Mr. von Derp." 

He disappeared into the galley again. 
Von Derp pulled open the drawer under his 
hand and produced the photograph of the 
Countess of Salisbury's garter! The effect 
upon him was electrical. Quickly he glanced 
toward the galley, and then, as some one 
started to ask a question, lifted one finger 
to his lips, warningly. When he spoke there 
was a queer obstruction, it seemed, in his 
throat : 

"Here's a record, Mr. Gaunt," and he 
handed it to Skeets. Again with that sig- 
nificant command to silence, he replaced the 
photograph in the drawer and closed it, 
quickly. A moment, while the phonograph 
whined and broke into a band concert, then 
Bruce thrust his head out. 

"Almost ready," he told them. "Miss 
Quain, come and serve the soup." 

There was no will-you-kindly, or if-you- 
please, or by-your-leave just a plain, unvar- 




Page 797 



'There, against the glass of the porthole, was a man's face!" 



"I LOVE YOU!" 193 

nished command to come and serve the soup. 
Cicely went. It didn't once occur to her to 
refuse, but there was defiance in the blue, 
blue eyes as she entered the tiny galley. He 
was going to scold her for repeating what he 
had said to her in confidence! She would 
brazen it out ! 

"You told them," he remarked quietly, as 
she stood beside him. It was not a question. 

"Why shouldn't I have told them? " she 
taunted. 

"No reason at all." 

"It was only fair that my mother should " 

"Quite right," he agreed. "I don't mind. 
I merely wanted to understand." 

The unexpectedness of his attitude left 
Cicely speechless for an instant, then: 

"I I didn't tell them all." 

"Very well, I will." 

The soup course finished, Bruce, with a 
word of apology, opened the drawer where 
von Derp sat and with no sign of embarrass- 
ment or uneasiness, took out the photograph 
and passed it to Mrs. Quain. 

" Did you ever see that? " he questioned, and 
then, as he rummaged through the records: 
"There's a Caruso solo here somewhere. 
We'll have him with the fish." 

13 



i 9 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

With the reappearance of the picture there 
had come again across von Derp's face a 
fleeting tenseness; in the faces of the others 
was only curiosity. 

"What is this?" asked Mrs. Quain. 

"It's a photograph of an interesting his- 
torical relic," Bruce explained. "You know 
the tradition of the founding of the Order of 
the Garter in England? That is a represen- 
tation of the original garter given to the 
Countess of Salisbury by Edward III. For 
many years the original lay in the British 
Museum, and photographs were made of it 
at that time. About a year ago the garter 
was stolen, and since then the police of the 
world have been searching for it. It is now 
supposed to be in the possession of a noto- 
rious American criminal, as I understand it 
one, The Hawk, or George Harrington 
Leigh, as he was known at the time of his 
disappearance, six years ago." He hadn't 
looked up ; he was still searching the records. 
"Ah, here's Caruso! Stick him on the ma- 
chine there, Mr. Gaunt." 

Bruce left dead silence behind him as he 
disappeared into the galley dead silence 
and startled glances. For the first time the 
serenity of Mrs. Quain's face was disturbed. 



i'l LOVE YOU!" 195 

Von Derp, oblivious of all, was staring, star- 
ing at the picture! 

"I neglected to say," Bruce added cheer- 
fully, as he reappeared at the head of the 
table and sat down, "that there is a vague 
belief among the police that I am The Hawk 
in person. I thought it only fair that you 
should understand." 

Again dead silence! For some reason she 
couldn't have explained there came a sudden 
change in Cicely's feelings toward this man. 
Perhaps it was born of his candor; his will- 
ingness to make his position clear to those 
about him. After all, there is something 
admirable in the bold man regardless of what 
he may be. And if it should develop that 
Bruce Colquhoun and The Hawk were the 
same! Cicely flushed, then paled, at the 
thought. The silence seemed interminable. 

"What an odd ring!" The necessity of 
saying something wrung the trivial remark 
from Cicely. The reference was to a ring on 
Bruce's left hand. 

" 'Tis curious, isn't it?" Bruce assented. 
"I picked it up in Russia." Then to Skeets: 
"What's the matter with Caruso? Won't 
he work?" 

Skeets turned to start the phonograph, and 



i 9 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Bruce slipped off the ring and handed it to 
Cicely. She accepted it, and examined it. 
It was warm from contact with his hand ! 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she commented. 

"If you'll accept it with my compliments 
I'll be pleased." Bruce added, courteously, 
"With your mother's permission, of course? 
It may serve to remind you to be more discreet 
in dangerous waters." 

Mrs. Quain arched her beautiful brows, 
questioningly. 

"In Russia, where I lived for many years, ' r 
Bruce took the trouble to explain, "we give 
to the admirer that which is admired. If 
you'll permit your daughter to accept this? 
It's of no real value; it's only odd." 

Mrs. Quain was never quite certain why 
she assented to the request; nor, indeed, was 
she certain of anything else particularly that 
came to pass during the remainder of the 
dinner. She, too, felt the curious, fascinating 
quality of the man of mystery. 

Skeets was plugging along in his search for 
a missing rhyme. Once he grew desperate, 
and almost wished his name was Percy! 

Mrs. Quain, at Bruce's right, became con- 
scious suddenly of a tautening of his sinews 
the rigidity of tense attention. She looked 



"I LOVE YOU!" 197 

up to find Bruce staring, with dead- white 
face, at a porthole directly over Cicely's 
shoulder. Involuntarily her eyes followed 
his. There, against the glass of the port- 
hole, was a man's face! 'Twas only a fleeting 
glimpse she had of it, but even in that instant 
she seemed to isolate the foreign qualities 
in it. The features were of an Italian cast. 
And as they looked, it vanished. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Nothing." Brace's tone was casual, but 
his quick eyes warned her to silence. "Par- 
don me a moment!" 

He arose and went out on deck. For five, 
ten, fifteen minutes he was gone. When he 
reappeared her closest scrutiny of his features 
told her nothing; but he was dripping wet 
from head to toe. 

"I tumbled overboard," he explained, 
tersely. "And, now if I may beg to be 
excused? I've received an unexpected sum- 
mons to the city, and I must answer it." 
Inquiring glances were turned upon him. 
"No, I haven't been arrested," he assured 
them. "The Hawk isn't caught yet!" 

There were two telegrams waiting at Step- 
ping Stones one for von Derp and one for 



i 9 8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Mrs. Quain. Von Derp's was curt and to 
the point: 

"My daughter's hand is pledged to another. 

"BROKAW HAMILTON." 

The telegram to Mrs. Quain was longer, 
and vastly astonishing to her: 

"Immediate marriage of young Gaunt and Cicely 
absolutely imperative. May be the only way to save 
me from ruin. "BROKAW." 

Without a word, Mrs. Quain handed the 
telegram to Cicely, who read it through 
twice, then sniffed. 

"Well, of all the unreasonable requests!" 
she said. 



CHAPTER IX 

T TNDER the watchful eyes of two of 
LJ Meredith's satellites, August von Derp 
stepped into a dory on Peggotty Beach and 
rowed out to where the Pyramid was lazily 
swinging back and forth with the tide. 

" Hello, aboard!" he hailed. 

There was no answer. The dory bumped, 
gently against the motor boat, and von Derp 
took a half -hitch around a chock. Again he 
hailed; still there was no answer. After a 
moment of hesitation he made fast and 
scrambled over the side, where he proceeded 
to thump lustily on the sliding door which 
led into the cabin. Meredith's men on shore 
watched him curiously as he pushed open 
the door and vanished down the companion- 
way. 

For a minute or more von Derp stood 
motionless in the deserted cabin, with eyes 
darting hither and thither. Everything indi- 
cated that Bruce had departed hurriedly. 
The dessert dishes and coffee cups were still 
on the table; even the photograph of the 
Countess of Salisbury's garter lay where von 
Derp himself had placed it. On the floor, 

199 



200 MY LADY'S GARTER 

soaking wet, was the clothing Bruce had 
worn the night before. He hadn't taken 
time, even, to wring them out. 

All these things von Derp saw and under- 
stood. Whatever had been his purpose in 
boarding the Pyramid there remained no 
doubt of his intention, now that he had found 
her owner absent. It was to search. He 
went at the job deliberately, with a vast 
attention to detail. First there were the 
drawers of the gravity table. He pulled 
one open, stared into it until he had photo- 
graphed the arrangement of its contents in 
his mind, then proceeded to haul everything 
out. 

There were some thirty or forty phono- 
graph records, two or three books in which 
he took no interest after glancing at the blank 
pages in front, a sextant, and a pair of pipes 
in a morocco case which bore the stamp of 
a dealer in St. Petersburg. Also, there were 
writing materials pens, pencils, paper, blot- 
ting paper, and an airtight inkwell. All 
these things von Derp examined minutely, 
paying particular attention to the blotting 
paper. Finally he shook his head, and began 
to replace the various articles in the drawer. 
It was a tribute to the accuracy of his 



"I LOVE YOU!" 201 

memory that when he had finished even Bruce 
would never have known the drawer had been 
opened. 

The big drawer on the other side of the 
gravity table contained only navigation charts 
and to these von Derp paid no attention. 
Instead he began systematically ransacking 
the lockers beneath the berths on the port 
side. Here he found table linen, bed linen, 
articles of personal apparel, a huge box of 
smoking tobacco, and another huge box of 
cigarettes singularly enough, they were 
Regents. As von Derp noted the brand he 
smiled. 

Without haste von Derp now turned his 
attention to the lockers on the starboard 
side. Apparently these were filled with cloth- 
ing overcoats, sweaters, flannels, tweeds, 
evening dress, shoes, collars, ties all those 
things that make the outward man. Wher- 
ever there was a pocket von Derp's deft 
fingers found the bottom of it. He didn't 
shirk the labor, although nothing came of it. 

The starboard lockers gone over to his 
satisfaction, von Derp leaned back in his 
chair and thoughtfully regarded the remaining 
lockers those under the long seat in the bow. 
Once he started to light a cigar, but thought 



202 MY LADY'S GARTER 

better of it, for he blew out the match he 
had struck and dropped it on the floor; after 
which he picked it up and thrust it into his 
pocket. With the cigar fixed between his 
teeth, he turned his attention to his work 
again. 

Here, for the first time, von Derp found 
locks to oppose him. With the thin edge of 
his knife blade he conquered the first lock 
without trouble to find that the locker was 
empty save for a shooting belt with shells, 
a shot gun, a revolver, and three boxes of 
cartridges. He stared at these things with- 
out touching them, then carefully relocked 
the door. Silently, patiently, systematically 
as before, he began work on the second locker. 
It yielded at last and he found inside only 
a tin case, this, too, locked. 

There was a little smile of satisfaction 
on his face now obviously, here was some- 
thing promising at last. It was ten minutes 
before von Derp laid back the top of the tin 
case without force and without having defaced 
it with one tiny mark. Inside he found a 
roll of bills seemingly four or five hundred 
dollars. He looked at them without touching 
them, closed and locked the tin box, replaced 
it in its receptacle, then locked that. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 203 

Remained only the slim chance of finding 
the thing he sought, whatever it was, in the 
little galley. No, here was still another 
chance another locker beside the engine 
hood. Von Derp raised the lid; it was a tool 
box. He was about to turn away when he 
caught sight of a book of some sort thrown 
in carelessly with the tools. He dug it out 
"Engine Troubles" was the title glanced 
at the blank pages in front, and replaced it. 
A black smudge of oil on one hand was his 
reward for thoroughness. He wiped it off 
as best he could with his handkerchief. 

The galley was here almost behind him. 
He turned and glanced in, and bracing him- 
self with a hand on either side of the narrow 
door, stood for a moment appraising the con- 
tents of the tiny nook. It was as complete 
a miniature kitchen as he had ever seen, and 
generously stocked with stuffs secured in 
racks. Obviously, there was little need to 
search here, but 

Von Derp started forward eagerly, with a 
glitter of triumph in his eyes at something he 
had seen. It was a spindle on which were 
several sheets of paper. He slipped off the 
first. It was nothing more important than 
a laundry list, setting forth in due form that 



204 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Bruce Colquhoun was possessed of so many 
collars, and shirts, and socks, and so many 
other things certainly nothing to arouse 
the tense interest von Derp displayed. It 
was not a printed slip, but a memorandum 
written evidently by Bruce himself for his 
own information. 

There was something sardonic in von 
Derp's manner as he drew out his pocket- 
book, folded the slip carefully, placed it 
therein, then stowed it away again. In his 
eagerness he failed to notice that he had 
dropped another slip of paper! 

When Bruce came aboard the Pyramid half 
an hour later he found von Derp stretched 
out at length in a deck chair smoking luxu- 
riously and gazing out upon Bass' Cove with 
beatific satisfaction upon his face. 

"Hello!" Bruce greeted. 

"Good morning," von Derp returned. He 
arose ceremoniously and bowed with a per- 
fect mechanical action. "I ran out to pay 
my dinner call, found the boat deserted, and 
made myself comfortable here. I was almost 
asleep." 

Bruce regarded him absently for a moment, 
and his eyes swept the immaculate figure from 
the yellow hair to the white buckskin boots. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 205 

"Glad you came out, " he remarked at last. 
"I want a little talk with you. Pardon me 
just a moment." 

He disappeared down the companionway 
and shot a quick, searching glance about the 
cabin. Evidently he was satisfied, for he 
returned immediately. 

"They tell me, " von Derp remarked lazily, 
"that it's seven miles in an air line to that 
wireless mast on Brant Rock. It looks as if 
one might throw a stone and " 

" Mr. von Derp, you'll pardon me if I seem 
impertinent, won't you?" Bruce interrupted. 
"There are some things I'd like to know about 
you." 

There was an expression of polite surprise 
on von Derp's face nothing else. 

"For instance?" he queried. 

"I'd like to know who you are, where you 
came from, and satisfy myself that you're 
only what you seem to be!" Bruce stated it 
crisply, pointedly. 

"I am August von Derp, son of Wilhelm 
von Derp, junior partner in the banking firm 
of Hegeman, von Derp & Company of 
Amsterdam, Holland," was the precise reply. 
"I came to this country on a jaunt, just 
knocking about, you understand; and among 



2o6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

other letters of introduction I brought one to 
Mr. Brokaw Hamilton in New York. He and 
my father are associated in business some 
way. I presented the letter to Mr. Hamil- 
ton, and he sent me along up here with his 
family." 

The eyes of the two men met unwaver- 
ingly von Derp's shallow, languid under his 
lemon-colored brows; in Bruce's there seemed 
to be only tense curiosity. 

"I'm afraid I don't understand the last 
part of your question," von Derp continued, 
after a little. "Am I only what I seem to be! 
By that you mean just what?" 

"I beg your pardon, really." There was 
crisp courtesy in Bruce's manner. "I'm 
afraid, sometimes, I'm too direct in what I 
say. ' ' Worried lines appeared suddenly in his 
smooth brow. "I can't explain, but it is 
very necessary that I know all about men 
with whom I come in contact. I've done 
you an injustice. Pardon me." 

Von Derp waved his exquisite hands as if 
to dismiss the subject. 

"I'm only curious to know what you think 
I might have been or what you think I am, " 
he said. 

"I don't know that I can answer that 



"I LOVE YOU!" 207 

question," Bruce told him frankly. "There 
was something in your manner last night 
when you chanced upon that photograph of 
the Countess of Salisbury's garter that 
that I don't know what I did think. I 
merely got an impression that your interest 
in it was more tense than it would have been 
in an ordinary person." 

"I think I comprehend," and von Derp 
nodded understandingly. "You yourself be- 
ing under suspicion I refer to it only because 
you did you thought perhaps that I might 
be a a detective, say?" 

"No, it was hardly that." 

"Or even perhaps The Hawk?" 

Bruce made a quick gesture of impatience. 

"It's absurd, all of it," he declared flatly. 
"If you'll be good enough to overlook what 
must seem to be an uncalled for interest in 
your affairs I'll be deeply obliged. I should 
have known, of course, that as a guest of the 
Quains the Hamiltons please pardon me." 
He arose abruptly. "I'm tired to death. 
Will you join me in a little Scotch?" 

Bruce vanished down the companionway, 
and some subtle change came into von Derp's 
face. It was a curious hardening of his 
expression, a cunning glint in his shallow eyes. 



208 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Bruce reappeared with the glasses and 
decanter. 

"I wonder," von Derp observed, "if you 
would answer the same question?" 

"What question?" 

"Who are you? Where do you come from? 
Are you only what you seem?" 

"You have the advantage of me, " and there 
was a trace of bitterness in Bruce 's tone. 
"I can answer no questions whatever about 
myself." 

"I wondered!" von Derp sipped appre- 
ciatively at the drink. "I wonder if you 
could answer a question as to what actually 
happened last night when you left the dinner 
table, and returned dripping wet?" 

"Nor can I answer that," Bruce replied 
with darkening expression. "I can only 
say I anticipated a grave danger to all of us, 
and nothing happened. That danger still 
threatens me. That's all." 

Oddly enough, it came to pass that two 
men who had regarded each other with open 
suspicion shook hands cordially when von 
Derp took his leave. Bruce spent the after- 
noon tidying up the Pyramid, and tinkering 
with her engine. Just before sundown he 
wrote a brief note to Cicely and, followed by 




Page 210 



"The record was still playing as he . . . disconnected her 
gasoline supply 1 ' 



"I LOVE YOU!" 209 

one of Meredith's men, walked over to the 
village post office. 

Night came, a night of overhanging clouds, 
tangibly dark and moist ly warm. From the 
deck of the Pyramid Bruce could see the 
bobbing night light of the Maid-of-the-Sea, 
less than a hundred feet away, seaward; and 
on shore, above the murmur of the ebbing 
tide, he heard her pilot, left in charge by 
Meredith, in loud conversation with old 
Cap'n Barry. There was no mistaking their 
voices. Wherefore it came upon him sud- 
denly that the pilot, anxious for a bit of 
human companionship, had left the Maid- 
of-the-Sea deserted for the moment. He came 
to his feet quickly, and, after a long scrutiny 
of the skies, went below and pulled on his 
bathing trunks. 

This done, Bruce placed a record in the 
phonograph and started it; old Cap'n Barry 
and the pilot of the Maid-of-the-Sea paused 
to listen. One record finished, there was a 
pause of perhaps five minutes; then Bruce 
put on another, and started that. As its first 
strains reached the ears of those ashore, Bruce 
slid silently over the side of the Pyramid, 
into the water, and struck out, swimming 
rapidly, for the Maid-of-the-Sea. 

14 



2 io MY LADY'S GARTER 

The record was still playing as he clambered 
up her side, darted into her cabin, discon- 
nected her gasoline supply, stuffed the supply 
pipe with cotton, and slid back into the sea. 
He had almost reached the Pyramid again 
when the record stopped. Up her side he 
clambered, and thirty seconds later a new 
record was playing. Watchful as they had 
been, Meredith's men on shore had perceived 
no break in the music longer than was neces- 
sary to change a record. 

'Twas less than a minute later that the 
great engine of the Pyramid sputtered as she 
was cranked, then settled down to a roar; 
the waves curled away from her bow and she 
was speeding into the open. Came a sudden 
hubbub on shore, a scampering of the pilot 
and Meredith's satellites, some picturesque 
profanity, and three men put out for the 
Maid-of-the-Sea, rowing madly. Bruce, run- 
ning dark, looked back once, just before he 
rounded Second Cliff. 

"It will take them an hour to get her 
going," he remarked to himself contentedly, 
"and by that time I ought to be off Hull." 

So 1 the hare was on her way again; the 
hound wallowed helplessly in the trough of 
the sea. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 211 

There was another great robbery in the 
suburbs of Boston that night, this being in 
Cambridge. The Weldon Blakes were the 
victims in this instance, losing jewels valued 
at about twenty thousand dollars. In this 
case, as in the other, a note was found: 

"My compliments to Mr. Meredith. 

"THE HAWK." 

From gloomy contemplation of Bruce 
Colquhoun's daring escape in the Pyramid, 
Meredith was aroused to this new robbery. 
Stranger than any other feature of it, to him 
at least, was the fact that this second note 
was in a handwriting totally different from the 
first! He scuttled off madly to get the 
opinion of an expert, Dr. Harvey, on it. 
Again the tedious examination and compari- 
son, after which: 

"There are marked resemblances in this 
second note to the specimen you submitted 
with hieroglyphics in the corner," the expert 
declared, "but they are not by the same hand. 
There is great dissimilarity in the first note 
and the second, but they are by the same hand!" 

Meredith toddled along to Professor Wayne. 

"This second note, " that learned gentleman 
asserted, "is unquestionably in the same 



212 MY LADY'S GARTER 

handwriting as the specimen with the hiero- 
glyphics in the corner. That first note, 
therefore, was not written by the individual 
who wrote either this second note or the hiero- 
glyph specimen!" 

Meredith went away, holding his head. 



CHAPTER X 

"DEAR Miss QUAIN: 

"I forgot to mention that there is a charm upon 
that ring 'whosoever hath this ring shall love me 
forever, and be beloved of me ! ' 
"Sincerely, 

"BRUCE COLQUHOUN." 

Cicely read the note again, and yet 
again, the while a wistful tenderness crept 
into the blue, blue eyes and the tyrannical 
curve of her rose-red lips softened. It was 
not a surprise, this note; in her own mind she 
likened it to the writer impertinent, mys- 
terious, fascinating. Of course she would 
snub him for it when she met him again 
that was his due for daring to write such a 
note; but after all, the foolish little ring was 
very dear to her! He had worn it it had 
come to her warm from the touch of his hand ! 
"Shall love me forever, and be beloved of 
me!" And even at that he might be a thief, 
a murderer ! 

Skeets came bustling in, fresh from his 
matutinal worship at the shrine of Mercy 
Dale. Cicely roused herself from a gentle 
reverie. 

213 



214 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Skeets, you don't love me, do you?" she 
demanded suddenly. 

Skeets didn't know the answer. He stood 
stock still, twisting his hat like a bashful 
schoolboy, and looked her over questioningly. 

"Why, ye-yes, " he faltered. "I suppose 
I do." 

"Suppose you do!" Cicely repeated dis- 
dainfully. "Tell me the truth! You don't 
love me!" 

"Well er since the other day when you 
were so distant and er frigid, as it were, 
I don't quite " 

" Say it right out, ' ' Cicely commanded. ' ' I 
don't love you, so you won't hurt my feelings." 

Skeets drew a deep sigh of relief, after which 
he assumed a near-melancholic expression, 
and balanced himself on one foot. 

"Since you put it that way," he confessed, 
"I don't mind saying that I'm not as strong 
for you as ' 

"In other words, since Miss Dale hauled 
you out of the water!" 

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Skeets broke 
in irrelevantly, his poetic soul in his eyes. 
"Fresh, sweet, simple, unspoiled, and " 

"I know," Cicely nodded understandingly. 
"Now that we understand each other, I'll 



"I LOVE YOU!" 215 

tell you something. My mother has a tele- 
gram from my father in which he declares 
that I must marry you at once! Must! 
Do you understand?" 

"Must?" Skeets repeated the word rebel- 
liously. 

"I'm sure I don't want to marry you, and 
I don't think you want to marry me." 

"Well, let's don't!" It was a clever 
thought for Skeets. "You know," he 
rushed on, "my father told me if I didn't 
marry you he'd give all his millions to the 
Fiji Islanders. Gad! You know, I think 
I'll let him do it. What would money be to 
me if the woman I loved " 

' ' It's a bargain then? ' ' Cicely asked. ' ' We 
won't?" 

"We won't!" Skeets promised. They 
shook hands on it. Came another thought: 
"Is there another man?" 

"Why?" Cicely parried. 

"It's not von Derp?" 

"No, it's not von Derp!" 

"Good!" Skeets commented. "I don't 
like his yellow whiskers." He started up- 
stairs, but paused at the door. "By the 
way," he added, "that chap we had dinner 
with was The Hawk." 



216 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Cicely came to her feet, crumpling the note 
in her slender fingers. For a scant instant 
her heart stood still, and words failed to 
come as she stared at the poet. He was 
frightened at her pallor and took a step 
forward. 

"Has he been arrested?" Her question 
was almost inarticulate. "Has he con- 
fessed?" 

Men are stupid creatures; ask any woman. 
Cicely's obvious agitation meant nothing to 
Skeets save in so far as it was a manifestation 
of outraged pride. They, Cicely and her 
mother, had dined with a thief and murderer ! 

"No, he has neither confessed nor been 
arrested," he explained. "But he made a 
getaway last night that left Detective Mere- 
dith and the flock of men he had here on watch 
gasping for breath. He swam out from the 
Pyramid to the Maid-of-the-Sea they found 
his bare footprints on deck and disconnected 
the carbureter, after which he stuffed the 
supply pipe with cotton. It took three men 
four hours to get the engine going. By that 
time pssst! the Pyramid was gone!" 

"Then why, " Cicely was breathing quickly, 
her small hands were still clenched, "why do 
you say he was The Hawk?" 



"I LOVE YOU!" 217 

"Oh, the mere fact that he ran away like 
that proves it," Skeets informed her. "But 
I wouldn't lose any sleep about it. He was 
an impertinent ass, anyway!" 

Skeets went on upstairs. For a long time 
Cicely sat motionless, torn by emotions she 
had never known before. Finally she could 
stand it no longer. She flung a veil about 
the sensuous brick-red hair and started toward 
the beach. It just happened that Meredith, 
who had run down to Satuit in a rage to call 
off his ferrets and incidentally to address 
them at some length on the general subject 
of stupidity met her in the road. 

"Well, he got away," he greeted her. 

"You are the very man I wanted to see," 
said Cicely. "I want to ask you one ques- 
tion you must answer it. Is Mr. Colqu- 
houn a a thief?" 

"I wish I knew," said the detective rue- 
fully. 

"Or a a murderer?" 

"I can only say, Miss Hamilton pardon 
me, Miss Quain that I believe he is both a 
thief and a murderer." 

"But you don't know?' 1 

Meredith was gazing at her curiously. He 
shook his head. 



2i8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"I don't know!" he confessed. 

"And the mere fact that he he ran away 
is not a confession of of guilt?" 

"It's against him, of course," Meredith 
said judicially, "but it is not a confession. 
Lots of innocent men get frightened and run 
away from us." 

"And he is gone?" Cicely rushed on. 
"You've been unable to find him?" 

"There's no trace of him yet," he said. 
"Ultimately, of course, we'll get him." 

The crumpled little note slid from Cicely's 
nerveless fingers to the ground ; the detective 
stooped courteously to pick it up. A glance 
at the superscription on the envelope and his 
eyes opened wide. With a little cry Cicely 
snatched it from his hand. 

"That note is from Colquhoun. " It was 
not a question. "I know his handwriting." 

"It is, yes." There was calm defiance in 
Cicely's manner. 

"Will you give it to me?" 

"No." 

"May I see it?" 

"No!" 

"Will you tell me what's in it?" 

"I will not!" indignantly. 

The detective plucked a white-headed flower 



"I LOVE YOU!" 219 

from a near-by weed, and whipped it idly 
against his knee. 

"If," he asked, "if that note contained 
information as to the present whereabouts 
of Colquhoun, would you allow me to see it? " 

"No." 

"Will you give me your word of honor," 
and he was studying her white face tensely, 
"your word of honor that it contains nothing 
which would give a clue to his whereabouts 
directly or indirectly? " 

"I will do that, yes my word of honor!" 

"That is sufficient." 

Meredith bowed courteously and went on 
up the road, busy with his own plans. His 
fruitful field of investigation had suddenly 
become barren. He'd run by the post office, 
order his mail forwarded, and clear out of 
Satuit. For the present at least there was 
nothing to be learned here. At the post 
office he had another surprise. 

In his mail there was one envelope bearing 
the return address of a big New York hotel, 
but the postmark showed it had been mailed 
in Boston on the previous night. The en- 
velope had been directed on a typewriter. 
Meredith opened it. Inside he found a single 
sheet of paper, evidently a scrap of wrapping 



220 MY LADY'S GARTER 

paper; and roughly outlined upon it was a 
sketch of some sort. It seemed to be the 
interior plan of a residence, marked off into 
rooms, halls, closets and against one of 
these closets was a blue cross. Here and 
there in the sketch were other cabalistic hier- 
oglyphs. Beneath the sketch were some 
figures, and one word, arranged in this fashion : 
"21 Willow 7/3." 

On the night of the second day following, 
specifically the night of July 3, Detective 
Meredith and one of his able assistants crept 
silently into the big mansion, No. 21 Willow 
Street, in a suburb of Boston, and stationed 
themselves, one on each side of the closet 
against which the blue cross appeared in the 
sketch. The occupants of the house, Calhoun 
Manning and family, had been called to 
New York by a telegram early in the day. 
Stationed outside the building were four of 
Meredith's men, their orders being to inter- 
fere with no one who might enter the house, 
but to stop and hold any one attempting to 
leave it. So, the trap was set! 

Ten o'clock struck, then eleven, twelve, 
one. Patiently the men waited, revolvers 
and flashlights in hand. The faint noises of the 



"I LOVE YOU!" 221 

night had died completely now; the silence 
was tense it was the stillness of the tomb. 

All at once, without having heard a 
sound, Meredith knew there was some one 
else in the room. His muscles grew taut! 
Five seconds, ten seconds! There was a 
faint creaking in the direction of the table 
in the center of the room! 

Simultaneously the electric flashes of Mere- 
dith and his aid blazed in the direction of 
the table. Sitting upon it, placidly swinging 
his perfectly shod feet, was von Derp! 
There was an unlighted cigarette in his lips, 
slightly parted in a smile which crinkled the 
corners of his eyes. His hat was pushed 
back so that the yellow fringe of his hair 
showed, and with one gloved hand he plucked 
thoughtfully at the point of his lemon- 
colored beard. 

"Is that you, Meredith?" he inquired 
quietly. 

"Yes, but" 

"Sh-h-h-h! Not so loud!" von Derp 
warned. He slid from the table and came 
toward the detective. "And shut off your 
light!" 

"But but what are you doing here?" 
Meredith was stammering in his amazement. 



222 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Shut off your light, you fool!" It was a 
hissing command, as unlike the mathemati- 
cally courteous von Derp as one could imagine. 
"And be silent! He may come yet, and I 
want him as much, or more, than you do!" 

Insolence is bad medicine at times. It was 
in this instance. Meredith's face flushed, 
and he spoke to his assistant, in a velvety 
undertone: 

"Just throw on those electric lights, Stal- 
lings." Silently Stallings obeyed the order, 
and von Derp, himself bathed in light, could 
see the two detectives for the first time. In 
the right hand of each was a revolver. He 
smiled cynically as he noted it. 

"You want him as much or more than we 
do!" Meredith repeated, his keen eyes fas- 
tened upon the placid countenance before 
him. "You want who?" 

"Colquhoun The Hawk!" 

"Why do you want him?" Meredith pur- 
sued doggedly. 

Von Derp's face showed clearly his aston- 
ishment at the question. 

"You know who I am, don't you?" he 
inquired. 

"I know who you say you are," Meredith 
replied. "There is no better time than the 



"I LOVE YOU!" 223 

present and no better place than here for 
you to give a detailed account of yourself; 
and among other things, you might explain 
your presence in this house at this time!" 

Von Derp thrust one gloved hand into the 
breast pocket of his coat, and two revolvers 
clicked ominously in his face. 

"Why, you two are regular policemen, 
aren't you?" he mocked. "Permit me to 
introduce myself. " He took out an engraved 
card and handed it to Meredith. "I flattered 
myself that you knew me all along." 

Meredith read the card: 



HERR AUGUST VON DERP 



IMPERIAL 
SECRET SERVICE OF 

GERMANY BERLIN 



Von Derp questioned the two men with 
his eyes ; the mocking smile still played about 
his lips. 

"Any one may have cards engraved," 
Meredith pointed out. 



224 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Von Derp laughed. 

"You are what is it you Americans say? 
you are a Missourian, I see." Again he 
thrust a gloved hand into his breast pocket, 
this time to produce a packet of papers. To 
Meredith he handed these. ''My creden- 
tials, signed by the Minister of Foreign 
Affairs of Germany." Meredith glanced 
down the printed form of the signature. 
"And further," von Derp continued, as he 
threw back his coat and waistcoat and showed 
a small metal shield on his suspenders, "my 
badge of office." 

Without a word Meredith folded the paper 
and returned it to von Derp, who accepted 
it with a smile and restored it to his pocket. 

"I beg your pardon, " Meredith said simply 
as he thrust his revolver into his pocket; 
Stallings did likewise. "May I ask why you 
are here?" 

"I told you," was the reply. "I, too, 
want Colquhoun The Hawk." 

"How do you know he is The Hawk?" 

"I don't know it, any more than you do. 
I only suspect it." 

"And why do you why does Germany 
want him?" 

"Because he is believed to have in his 



"I LOVE YOU!" 225 

possession certain of the crown jewels of 
Germany, " was the astonishing reply. "When 
I say I want him, I am not strictly accurate; 
I merely want the jewels." 

Meredith didn't ask for details ; came again 
into his face a shadow of suspicion. 

"May I ask," he questioned, "how you 
happened to suspect that he would be here 
to-night?" 

"May I ask," and for an instant there 
was a return of the mocking smile to von 
Derp's lips, "how you happened to suspect 
it?" 

"I received anonymously a rough sketch 
giving the street and number, and a date. 
I worked it out. It seemed to point here. I 
came." 

"It was I," and von Derp paused to light 
his cigarette, "who sent you the sketch. I 
credited you with intelligence enough to know 
what it meant, and you've vindicated my 
judgment. I knew you wanted to catch The 
Hawk red-handed, and had authority to 
arrest him I have not. I merely wanted 
to be here when he was taken." He smiled 
ambiguously. "Also, I thought you'd know 
the handwriting on the sketch. It is mine." 

"Oh!" said Meredith, after a long pause. 

15 



226 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Stallings, turn out the light. We'll wait 
awhile." 

Von Derp made an impatient gesture with 
one hand. 

"Of course The Hawk won't venture here 
now," he complained. "He's no fool. He 
won't walk into a house where a light has 
been burning for half an hour at this " 

"We'll wait awhile," Meredith repeated. 

So, the three men waited. They were 
still waiting when the sun shot her first rays 
ahead into the dark. Nothing happened. 
Von Derp, Meredith, and Stallings left the 
house together. 

"There's one little thing I neglected to tell 
you," von Derp remarked casually. "I made 
it a point to search the Pyramid the other 
day on a chance of finding something to 
interest me, but I didn't. However, there 
is something aboard the boat which might 
interest you." 

"What is it?" 

"A photograph of the Countess of Salis- 
bury's garter. " 

Meredith's eyes opened wide, but he was 
silent. 



CHAPTER XI 

T TNANNOUNCED, Skeets walked into 
V_J his father's office in New York, put 
down his hat, and deposited himself on a 
chair, evidently for a long stay. Old John 
Gaunt looked up from his desk, then con- 
tinued his writing. 

"Hello," he greeted. "Where do you 
come from?" 

"Massachusetts," was the reply. 

"What have you been doing up there?" 

"I went up there," Skeets particularized, 
"to carry out your wishes and win Helen 
Hamilton. I'm back now to say that I 
can't marry her because I don't love her." 

"What!" John Gaunt roared, and he 
whirled around in his swivel chair. "You 
don't love her? You say that after all that 
gush you spilled in here about her?" 

Skeets blushed modestly. 

"I I find that I was mistaken," he stam- 
mered. "I interpreted my feelings for her 
in the light of a stronger emotion, and " 

"And all those poems you've been writing 
to 'Helen'?" his father went on. "I ran 
through the files of your magazine the other 

227 



228 MY LADY'S GARTER 

day to see if you were a good editor, and on 
every other page was something 'To Helen'! 
I will say this for 'em they're funny ! Gad ! 
I don't know when I've enjoyed anything 



more! 
it 



As I said, I interpreted my feelings for 
her " Skeets undertook to explain, with 
dignity. 

"They remind me of that introductory 
verse to one of Bill Nye's books," old John 
Gaunt interrupted. "Ever read it? It goes 
something like this," and he quoted pon- 
derously : 

" 'Go, little booklet, go, 

Bearing an honored name, 
Till everywhere that you have went 
They're glad that you have came.' ' 

"I'm sure there is no comparison " 
Skeets began defensively. 

"No, but you're improving," his father 
flattered. "I think toward the last they're 
funnier than your first ones were. You're 
all right, Sammy." 

"Not Sammy, please, father!" 

"And so, Samuel, you've found that you 
don't love Helen Hamilton?" 

"Not in the way I thought I did no, 
sir." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 229 

"Why?" 

''I don't know," Skeets confessed, help- 
lessly, " My viewpoint seems to have under- 
gone some psychological change and " 

"And you won't marry her. Won't was 
the word you used?" 

"I can't marry her. That was the word 
can't! She doesn't love me." 

"Impossible!" exclaimed John Gaunt. 
"She doesn't love you after all that chatter 
about" 

"It seems that she, too, misinterpreted " 

"She doesn't love you; you don't love her. 
Now is it possible for you to love anybody? 
Really love anybody?" 

"It is." Skeets was quite firm about it. 

"For instance?" 

"I do love somebody." 

"Who?" 

Skeets picked up his hat and stroked it 
thoughtfully. 

"A few days ago, father, Cicely that is, 
Helen was nearly drowned while swimming. 
In my efforts to get to her / was nearly 
drowned. I was rescued by a girl, and " 

"I know the rest of it. Who is she?" 

"She's the daughter of a lobster fisherman 
and mosser in the little town of Satuit, 



2 3 o MY LADY'S GARTER 

in Massachusetts. She is well educated 
worked her way through Radcliffe, and all 
that and sweet and simple as the delicate 
flower that blossoms unseen beside the " 

"I got you, ' ' his father interrupted. ' ' What 
does she look like?" 

"She's very much the same type as Cicely 
that is, Helen," Skeets explained. "Her 
hair is deep red, her eyes blue blue as the 

"Is she a good, clean American woman?" 
his father demanded. 

"Yes, American to the core, a direct 
descendant of Mayflower ancestors, and 

"What's her name?" 

"Miss Dale. " Skeets hesitated. "Mercy 
Dale." 

"Her name is what?" 

"Mercy" 

"Mercy?" 

"Mercy." 

"Help! Where'd she get it?" 

"It's not an unusual New England name. 
I admire it very much." 

John Gaunt turned in his swivel chair and 
scribbled industriously for five minutes. Then : 

"And you won't marry Helen Hamilton?" 

"No, "firmly. 

"In spite of my expressed wishes?" 



"I LOVE YOU!" 231 

"I'll give up the money." 

"You'd deliberately make a pauper of 
yourself for the sake of this what's her 
name? Say it again." 

"Mercy Dale!" Suddenly Skeets went 
white. 

"And then, I suppose, you'd go out and 
dig ditches, and plow fields to support her?" 

"I would, yes." 

Old John Gaunt swung around in his chair 
again, and leaned back and laughed. 

"Good boy!" he said admiringly. "You 
know, Sammy, I don't give a continental 
whoopee in the hereafter who you marry, so 
long as she is a good, decent, clean American 
woman. You've got the real Gaunt spirit. 
Good boy!" 

Of necessity poets are psychologists, but 
Skeets couldn't quite fit any theory that 
happened to be around loose to this actual 
condition. He was pondering it when his 
father went on: 

"The only reason I wanted you to marry 
Helen Hamilton, anyway, was to slip one 
over on her father. And now even that 
doesn't matter. Believe me, Sammy, I've 
got him in a deal and sewed buttons all up 
and down him, front and back. First thing 



232 MY LADY'S GARTER 

he knows I'll own his railroads. He called 
me a coal heaver, you'll remember. I've 
got him on the run. You know," shrewdly, 
and the eyes of this masterful old giant of 
finance snapped, "I've an idea that he'd 
like for you to marry his daughter now, if 
he thought it'd stop my fight on him." 

Skeets was tempted to explain, in the light 
of his conversation with Cicely, but he didn't. 
His delicate poetic soul was appalled at the 
mercilessness of this financial warfare; he 
was silent. 

"You know what Hamilton did the other 
day?" his father ran on. "He's had detec- 
tives on my trail for more than a fortnight 
I don't know just why. The other day they 
went up and searched my house for some 
reason. I've got him on the run, sonny. 
Now get out of here. I'm busy. And give 
my blessings to Mercy." 

On his way out Skeets met Dexter in the 
hall Dexter of Scotland Yard, the gimlet- 
eyed sleuth who had been sent over to 
recover tne Countess of Salisbury's garter! 



M 



CHAPTER XII 

RS. QUAIN'S tranquil face was fur- 
rowed by spidery lines of perplexity as 
she strolled down the wide lawn from the 
house and joined Cicely under the big apple 
tree beside the tiny study building. For the 
first time in her life she was laboring under 
the weight of a grave responsibility; and to 
her credit be it said that she met it dutifully, 
albeit unenthusiastically. Upon her, at the 
terse command of her husband, had devolved 
the unpleasant task of compelling a match 
between Cicely and Skeets Gaunt; and to 
her aid she had brought all her diplomacy, 
all her gracious tact, even maternal coercion 
thus far vainly. 

Cicely was sitting upon the grass, Turkish 
fashion, thoughtfully flinging unripe wind- 
fallen fruit into the thick multi-flowering 
hedge. She looked up, instantly on the 
defensive, and sighed wearily. Here was 
come her daily grilling. 

"Has Skeets returned from New York?" 
Mrs. Quain questioned, as she sat down. 
She was sweetly oblivious of the smouldering 
rebellion in her daughter's face. 

233 



234 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Yes, he came this morning," Cicely 
replied, then pleadingly: "Now, mother, 
let's don't start it all over again." 

"Where is he?" 

"He's down thanking Miss Dale for saving 
his life," said Cicely. 

"I had a long letter from your father this 
morning in which he explains that unless you 
and Skeets " 

"I understand, perfectly," Cicely inter- 
rupted. "If we don't get married imme- 
diately the whole world is going to the 
demnition bow-wows, and " 

"Cicely!" 

"I don't care. I won't marry him, and," 
triumphantly, "he won't marry me. He's 
said so!" She flung a green apple spitefully 
and accurately at a strutting robin. "Why 
is a marriage between us so necessary all at 
once?" she demanded. "When I wanted 
Skeets I couldn't have him, and now that I 
wouldn't have him I must marry him?" 

Mrs. Quain shrugged her shapely shoulders, 
and laid a graceful hand gently upon the 
wind-blown brick-red hair of her daughter. 
The tenderness of the caress brought a quick 
moisture to Cicely's blue, blue eyes; she 
seized the slim white hand and pressed it 



"I LOVE YOU!" 235 

to her hot cheek. Mrs. Quain, in silence, was 
staring out dreamily over the wimpling waters 
of the harbor. 

"You know, mother," Cicely ran on in a 
strained, tense little voice, "I'd be sorry for 
you and Pops if he should be ruined finan- 
cially, as he seems to think he will be if I 
don't marry Skeets, but I shouldn't mind 
being poor myself. I don't think it quite 
quite fair that he should put all the respon- 
sibility upon me. I don't love Skeets; I 
thought I did, and I daresay if the elopement 
had had been a success we would have been 
happy together, but now not now. " 

"There is some one else. Who?" 

"No one," Cicely denied. 

"Is it Mr. von Derp?" 

"No!" capitalized. 

Another question trembled upon Mrs. 
Quain's lips, but she didn't ask it. Strange 
fears lie suppressed deep in a mother's heart ! 
After a moment she went on: 

"Did Skeets' going to New York have any 
connection with his his refusal to marry 
you?" 

Cicely bobbed her head vigorously; the 
latent fire in her brick-red hair leaped into 
flame. 



236 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"He went," she explained specifically, "to 
tell his father that he was in love with 
Miss Dale and to ask him to give " 

"Oh!" 

Old Cap'n Barry came racking along the 
winding road from Peggotty Beach in a haste 
inspired by uncontrollable excitement. 

"It's coming back! " he yelled at the snowy 
white figures on the lawn at Stepping Stones. 

"What?" Cicely asked. 

"The Pyramid," he bellowed. "I'm ago- 
ing over now to tell the constable." 

Cicely had arisen, with a rush of color to 
her cheeks; instantly it receded, leaving her 
marble white. In her throat was a curious 
tightness. 

"Why, " she demanded with an effort, "are 
you going to tell the constable?" 

"Going to arrest him, by gravy!" The 
old Cap'n exploded it directly under Cicely's 
nose. "They say he killed a feller down to 
New York, and stole a lot o' diamens and 
things. Regular thief, you know. And," 
the Cap'n continued shrewdly, "I don't 
know whether you heerd it or not, but ole 
man Bates up at the Center 's been missing a 
lot o' chickens lately, too!" 

Cap'n Barry went racking on across the 



"I LOVE YOU!" 237 

causeway toward the village, his hurrying 
heels kicking up little spurts of dust behind 
him. Motionless, Cicely stared after the 
aged sailor man until he had crossed the 
bridge spanning the backwater, then turned 
to her mother. 

"I'm going to warn Mr. Colquhoun, " she 
said. 

"Why?" questioned Mrs. Quain. "If he 
is a thief and a murderer!" 

"I don't believe it," Cicely declared. 
"It's only fair to warn him after after 
He saved my life, you know. I can't stand 
by and see him arrested!" The word came 
hollowly. 

In that instant Mrs. Quain understood. 
Hopelessly perplexed, she glanced toward the 
beach. There, coming along the road toward 
them, was Bruce Colquhoun in person. He 
turned in the drive and came straight 
across the lawn. With fingers locked tightly 
together behind her back, Cicely faced him. 

"Cap'n Barry," she said tensely, "has 
gone for the constable to arrest you. " 

"Thanks," he said simply. There was no 
other greeting, no extraneous matutinal 
wishes, no trite comments on the weather. 
He addressed Mrs. Quain: "I am aware 



238 MY LADY'S GARTER 

that I owe you and your daughter some 
apologies. My sudden departure the other 
night after I had put the engine of the Maid- 
of-the-Sea out of commission must have 
seemed curious to you, almost a confession 
of those charges against me. It was abso- 
lutely necessary that I should go, and equally 
necessary that no one should follow me. 
I can't explain why. My return, I hope, 
will convince you that my running away was 
through no sense of guilt. I can hardly 
expect you to believe me; I can only hope 
that you will. " 

He was searching the faces of the two 
women mother and daughter with his eyes. 
Mrs. Quain's countenance was blank, inscru- 
table, tranquil; but deep in the mother's 
heart a tumult was raging, masked by the 
conventions. Cicely's hands were brought 
forward suddenly, and her fingers were locked 
together. She still wore the ring! "Who- 
soever hath that ring shall love me forever, 
and be beloved of me!" 

Mrs. Quain spoke: 

" I appreciate your motives, Mr.Colquhoun. 
Already I have thanked you for saving 
my daughter's life and I am free to say 
that personally I have no doubt as to your 



"I LOVE YOU!" 239 

innocence. On the other hand, you will un- 
derstand that it is only fair to us and fair to 
yourself that we should know who and what 
you are. I recall distinctly that you have 
frankly stated that these charges stood against 
you, but I don't recall that there has been 
the slightest effort on your part to explain 
them away, or even to allow us to under- 
stand who you are. You are here merely 
as Mr. Bruce Colquhoun. I don't even 
know that that is your name." 

"It is not," Bruce told her. 

"Then what is your name?" 

"That I can't tell you," 

"Who are you?" 

"That I can't tell you." 

" Where are you from? What do you do? " 

"Nor can I answer those questions." 

"Why not?" 

"I can't even answer that." 

Mrs. Quain made a little deprecatory 
motion with her slim hands. 

"You yourself compel me to say that, in 
view of all these things, I must, out of defer- 
ence to the conventions, ask you to ask 
you" 

"I understand perfectly." He bowed 
slightly, without a change in his countenance. 



240 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"It has been inconsiderate of me to expect 
you to continue your your friendship, if I 
may use the word. The withdrawal of your 
confidence is my greatest regret." His eyes 
dropped to Cicely's hands; the curious little 
ring he had given her flashed in the sun. 
"May I, before you dismiss me, have a few 
words with your daughter?" 

"In my presence, yes," was the reply. 

There was no embarrassment, no hesitation 
in Bruce's manner as he turned flatly to face 
Cicely, still deathly white. 

"Captain Barry and the constable are 
coming across the causeway," she said 
dully. 

"I'm here," he replied, without so much as 
a glance around. "I'm here, if they want 
me." He seemed to dismiss the matter. 
"I returned to Satuit," he went on, "for 
several reasons. One of those reasons was 
to try and make you and your mother under- 
stand that I did not run away through fear 
of arrest; another was that I thought, just 
having left here, I would be safer here than 
anywhere else against certain menacing con- 
ditions which constantly surround me, my 
idea being that men who had seen me flee 
the place would not expect me to return. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 241 

My third reason " He paused, and again 
glanced down at the ring. 

"Your third reason?" Cicely echoed 
faintly. 

"My third reason was to see if you still 
wore the little ring I gave you aboard the 
Pyramid," he said frankly. "I see that you 
do, and I thank you for it. " Their eyes met 
understandingly; it was a reference to the 
note he had written her. She understood. 
"Your mother has been good enough to 
express her confidence in me, and she has 
made me see that her attitude is necessary 
as a concession to the conventions. So long 
as you wear that ring I shall understand that 
you, too, have faith in me. When you 
return it, I shall know that the charm is 
broken, that your faith is dead." 

Through the haze of her emotions Cicely 
remembered vaguely that she had promised 
herself to snub this presumptuous young 
person soundly for that note; but now she 
lacked the courage to do it. Some savage 
thing was tearing at her heart; she wanted 
to scream. Already she could hear the 
thump of footsteps on the bridge a couple 
of hundred yards away as the constable and 
old Cap'n Barry came toward them! 

16 



242 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"There can be no reason sufficiently strong 
to compel a man of honor to silence regarding 
his identity," Cicely declared. Her voice 
was oddly cold, unemotional. "I can con- 
tinue to have faith in you only when you 
clear up this mystery which surrounds you." 

"I have told you that my life depends 
upon my ability to keep my identity secret," 
Bruce pointed out. 

"I am not a child, Mr. Colquhoun!" The 
blue, blue eyes flamed in sudden anger. 

"I am under a sentence of death, " he pur- 
sued, heedless of the scorn in her voice. "I 
left here the other night as I did because my 
executioners were at hand. They are seeking 
me elsewhere now, I hope. I came back to 
try to make you understand." 

"You love the theatric, don't you?" she 
taunted. "It is a most effective pose!" 

She stopped and drew the ring he had given 
her from her finger. "Whosoever hath this 
ring shall love me forever and be beloved of 
me!" It lay in her outstretched palm. 

"Your faith is dead, then?" he asked. 

"You yourself said what the return of 
the ring would mean to you. " 

"I'm sorry." 

Old Cap'n Barry and the constable were 



"I LOVE YOU!" 245 

at the entrance to the driveway now. Bruce 
took the ring from her hand, stared at it a 
moment, then flipped it into the underbrush 
directly across the winding road. Cicely 
gasped a little in impotent anger. 

With inscrutable face Bruce turned away 
from her to find that the town constable, 
smoking furiously, was almost behind him. 
One hand rested threateningly upon the 
official hip nearest the official weapon of 
defense; the official face was pale, despite 
the hurried walk across the causeway; and 
there was a vast indetermination in the 
official eyes. 

"Now, don't you start nothing!" Bruce 
was warned. "I see you're back?" 

"Yes. What of it?" 

"You ran away from here t'other night in 
your boat." 

"Well?" There was a steely glitter in 
Bruce's eyes. 

"They say you killed a feller down to New 
York, and stole a lot o' things!" The con- 
stable was uneasy beneath the placid glare. 

"And old man Bates up at the Center 
has missed a lot of chickens, too!" piped old 
Cap'n Barry. 

"If you're going to arrest me, do it,"" 



244 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Bruce advised, curtly. "Show me your war- 
rant and take me along." 

The constable wriggled a little, and swung 
from foot to foot. 

"I don't calc'late to arrest you, exactly," 
he confessed. "I I just wanted to see if 
you was back, and tell you I've got my eye 
on you. I'm going right up to the station 
and telegraph to Mr. Meredith of New York 
that" 

"You may save yourself the trouble," 
Bruce interrupted abruptly. " I telegraphed 
Mr. Meredith from Boston last night that 
I would be here to-day. " 

"You did?" incredulously. 

'Til be dinged!" So Cap'n Barry. 

"Now, if you've finished," Bruce went on, 
"please apologize to Mrs. Quain and her 
daughter here for intruding and making a 
scene, and go on about your business." 

'Twas a crestfallen town official who went 
stumbling across the lawn and down the 
driveway. Old Cap'n Barry followed him 
to the corner, then sat down on the fence to 
await developments. Be dinged if he could 
understand city folks! 

"Why," Cicely asked, curiously, "why 
are men afraid to arrest you?" 



"I LOVE YOU!" 245 

"Because," Bruce replied, tersely, "they're 
not so certain as you are that I am a thief 
and a murderer!" 

Through all of it Mrs. Quain had been 
silent. She was remembering that face she 
had seen through the porthole of the Pyramid. 
She started to ask a question, but changed 
her mind. Bruce bowed ceremoniously. 

" I regret more than I can make you under- 
stand, " he said, "that things are as they 
are." He laid a hand upon Cicely's arm 
and drew her unresisting a few steps to one 
side. "Some day you'll understand," he 
said. " Do you see that thin spindle against 
the sky, far off there to the north?" 

"Yes," she replied wonderingly. 

"Do you know what it is?" 

"A lighthouse, isn't it?" 

"Minot's Ledge lighthouse," he explained. 
"Do you know what the folks about here 
call that light? They have a name of their 
own for it." 

She shook her head, and her eyes were 
raised questioningly to his. 

"Ask some one," he said. "I wanted you 
to understand. Good-by." 

Again he bowed ceremoniously, first to 
Mrs. Quain, then to Cicely, and withdrew. 



1246 MY LADY'S GARTER 

For an hour or more old Cap'n Barry sat on 
the fence, staring at the house with an immi- 
nent expectation on his face. He was just 
about to give it up when Cicely came down 
the drive. 

"That's Minot's Ledge lighthouse over 
there, isn't it?" she asked, as she indicated 
the spindle. 

"Yessum." 

"It has has another name, too, hasn't 
it?" she asked. "I mean the folks about 
here call it something else, don't they?" 

"Yessum," obliged the Cap'n. "They 
call it the 'I-love-you' light!" 

"I love you!" 

Cicely's face went scarlet, then white again, 

Cap'n Barry stared at her blankly. Be 
dinged if he could understand 'em! 



CHAPTER XIII 

THREE telegrams, all forwarded by wire 
from police headquarters in New York, 
reached Detective Meredith at intervals of 
half an hour in the small seacoast town in 
Maine whither he had gone, following up the 
elusive trail of the Pyramid. The first to 
arrive was dated the day before, and said 
tersely: 

"I am returning to Satuit to-morrow. 

"BRUCE COLQUHOUN." 

'Twas amazing, unheard of, unethical even. 
Here was a game of hare and hounds where 
the hare, not content with playing his end 
of the game, must constitute himself as 
friend, adviser, and guide of the hounds. 
For no obvious reason, Detective Meredith 
was seized upon by consuming anger, and 
there was something vindictive in the way 
he packed his suit case. 

He was just locking it when the second 
telegram came: 

"Motor boat Pyramid, Colquhoun aboard, arrived 
here this morning. 

"VoN DERP." 
247 



24 8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Close upon this came the third : 

"Bruce Colkoon is back. Hurry up if you want to 
see him. I got my eye on him. Bring a warrant. Is 
there any reward? 

"STEVE RICKETTS, 
"Town Constable." 

Meredith caught the first train for Boston, 
where, at his telegraphed request, two men 
from the Bureau of Criminal Investigation 
met him at the station. And they had a 
story to tell. 

On the preceding night there had been 
another big jewel robbery, this time in one 
of the Newtons. The home of a former 
governor of the state had been ransacked, and 
a small fortune in jewels had been taken 
away about eighty-five thousand dollars 
worth among other pieces being a pearl 
necklace valued alone at forty thousand 
dollars. Here, too, had been found a mocking 
little note: 

"This closes my work in this vicinity. I wish to 
thank the Police Department, and Mr. Meredith of 

New York, for their stupidity. 

"THE HAWK." 

"This robbery was precisely like the others, 
save in one particular," one of the Boston 
detectives informed Meredith. "Up to this 



"I LOVE YOU!" 249 

time we have been working in the dark; now 
we have a clue. A footman in the house 
heard a noise about two o'clock, and quietly 
went to investigate, taking a revolver with 
him. He stopped at the door of a room where 
the noise seemed to be, and fired three shots 
into it, in the dark. Somebody ran away. 
He thinks only one man, but is not at all 
certain, so there may have been two. Any- 
way, when the lights were turned on, and an 
investigation made, this was found." 

He produced a photograph from his pocket 
and handed it to Meredith. It was an 
enlarged picture of a thumbprint, remarkably 
clear as to detail, and possessed of marked 
individual characteristics. Meredith's eyes 
opened wide as he stared at it. 

"It's certain that one of the shots took 
effect, ' ' the Boston detective went on. " This 
thumbprint was found, outlined in blood, on 
the edge of a sheet of paper that lay on the 
desk. The original is at headquarters. Also, 
it is certain that if The Hawk was alone it 
was he who was wounded, probably only 
slightly, however, as he was able to get away. 
If there were two men, of course it might 
have been the other man who was wounded 
this may even be his thumbprint, and not 



250 MY LADY'S GARTER 

The Hawk's. But at least we have the 
thumbprint, and it furnishes a clue that 
can't be disputed. " He was silent a moment. 
"To my mind, it seems that the search has 
narrowed down to an individual whose thumb- 
print corresponds with this, and who is 
probably slightly wounded." 

The reasoning seemed clear and lucid 
enough, but Meredith didn't comment upon 
it. 

"I think," he said slowly, after a little, 
"that I know the man. That's why I 
telegraphed you. I have a warrant; I want 
you to serve it." The heavy jaw of the 
detective closed with a snap. "And," he 
added grimly, "there won't be any difference 
of opinion among the experts. I am an 
expert myself in this Bertillon thing. " 

Von Derp, in his lean, gray motor car, met 
them at the little station in Satuit, and 
Meredith introduced him to the Boston men. 

"Please be good enough to inform them who 
I am," von Derp requested, "because I 
should like to ask you, and perhaps ask them, 
a few questions." 

"Mr. von Derp is of the Imperial Secret 
Service of Germany," Meredith obliged. 
"He, too, is at work on this case." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 251 

There was something awe-inspiring to the 
Massachusetts sleuths in Meredith's casual 
manner, in the words themselves. Suddenly 
they knew that an abyss separated them from 
this slender, good-looking, immaculate, 
yellow-bearded, lemon-haired young man. 
They were plain-clothes men; he was of the 
Imperial Secret Service of Germany a 
detective, it was true, but more than that! 
They admired the mathematical precision 
with which von Derp steered his car through 
the tangle of vehicles into the open roadway. 

"You've come to take Colquhoun?" von 
Derp asked of Meredith, who sat beside him. 

"We have!" Meredith was unanimous on 
that point. 

"He went into Boston on the last train," 
von Derp went on to explain. "However, 
I have no doubt he'll be back to-night. The 
Pyramid is still in the Cove. " 

"It's just as well," Meredith commented. 
"I want to take a look over the Pyramid. I 
believe you said there was a photograph 
of?" 

"The Countess of Salisbury's garter in the 
drawer of a table in the cabin," von Derp 
interrupted. "At least it was there." He 
was thoughtfully silent for a moment. "Just 



252 MY LADY'S GARTER 

what is this garter affair, anyway? 1 ' he 
asked. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand 
it?" 

"Simple enough, that part of it," Meredith 
explained. "I myself don't know the history 
of the garter particularly, but I do know it 
was in the British Museum for many years, 
and was stolen a few months ago. Scotland 
Yard secretly traced it to America where, 
presumably, it passed into the hands of an 
American millionaire, as various stolen 
paintings and other artistic valuables have 
done. Dexter of Scotland Yard was sent 
over here to find the particular millionaire 
who has it, with the intention of prosecuting 
him as an example to other millionaires who 
have bought, and still hold, articles of the 
sort that they know to have been stolen. 
Old Daddy Heinz, who was murdered the 
other day in New York, presumably by The 
Hawk, seems to have conducted a sort of 
clearing house for stuff of this sort. It was 
there we found a trace of The Hawk, after we 
had thought him dead; in my own mind, I 
connected him with the theft of Helen 
Hamilton's jewels, and possibly of complicity 
in the disappearance of the garter. For that 
reason Dexter came here with me. He is 



"I LOVE YOU!" 253 

now convinced, however, that Colquhoun 
is not The Hawk, and has gone back to New 
York to start all over." 

Von Derp listened attentively, and at the 
end he nodded understandingly, and smiled. 

"But you want The Hawk for his other 
other irregularities?" he questioned. 

"I do," Meredith nodded grimly. "I 
have been afraid to make a mistake and 
take Colquhoun. Now I am not. I'll lock 
him up, and establish his identity at leisure. 
He's too slippery to leave around loose far 
too clever to take chances with. This search 
has gone on for years. I'd rather put my 
hands on him now than to have five years 
added to my life!" 

The car whisked into the causeway leading 
to Second Cliff, and von Derp glanced around 
curiously into the set face of the detective. 

"It seems to be something of a personal 
matter with you?" he remarked, casually. 

" It is a personal matter with me, " Meredith 
admitted. "He's made a monkey of me! 
Believe me, he won't do it again!" 

"Are you sure?" von Derp questioned, with 
a slight smile. "You yourself say he is a 
clever man!" 

"He won't do it again!" 



254 MY LADY'S GARTER 

The motor car swung past the entrance to 
Stepping Stones, around to the right and 
along the winding road to Peggotty Beach. 
Cicely, from her window, saw it, and there 
was a hideous tightening of her heartstrings as 
she recognized Meredith ! She knew now what 
would come ! Meredith and his men alighted. 

"Come along," he said to von Derp. 
"You may find something to interest you." 

Old Cap'n Barry peered around the corner 
of a moss shanty where he was basking in 
the sun, then arose and approached Meredith's 
party. They were just stepping into a dory 
when he came up. 

"Ain't nobody on the Pyramid," he 
volunteered. 

"We know it," said Meredith, brusquely. 

" The feller went into town. Couple o' men 
here about an hour ago asking for him two 
Dago-looking chaps." 

"Who were they?" There was quick 
interest in Meredith's manner. 

"Dunno. Never seed 'em before. They 
rowed out to the la'nch, and one of 'em went 
aboard and stayed about fifteen minutes, 
then they both came ashore and went away. 
I told 'em the feller'd be back at midnight, 
but they didn't wait." 



"I LOVE YOU!" 255 

There was an expression of bewilderment 
on Meredith's face. He questioned von 
Derp with his eyes; and von Derp shook 
his head. Had Colquhoun escaped, after all? 
Again the detective turned to Cap'n Barry. 

"Did the two men take anything off the 
Pyramid?" he questioned. 

"Not that I seed." 

"What did they look like?" 

"Oh, " and the old man fished around in his 
mind, "they looked like a couple o' dagos all 
dolled up, like this feller," and he indicated 
von Derp. "I mean, they looked sorter 
furrin, like he does." 

The Pyramid lay, perhaps, a hundred yards 
out. In sheer impatience Meredith himself 
took an oar, and the dory in which the four 
men sat shot forward. Once it had been 
made fast to the Pyramid, Meredith scrambled 
on deck, and the other three men followed him. 

In this new search there was none of the 
exquisite care which had characterized the 
search von Derp had made. Three pairs 
of hands, less gifted than his own, pulled and 
hauled and tumbled and tousled the interior 
of the cabin regardless; but the search was 
no less thorough. Those things which von 
Derp had been so careful to replace precisely 



256 MY LADY'S GARTER 

as he had found them went helter-skelter 
now the while von Derp himself stood looking 
on, idly smoking. 

At last came a moment when every locker, 
every drawer, every cupboard stood wide 
open, and the reward had been nothing! 
Even the photograph of the Countess of 
Salisbury's garter was gone now. Silently 
the three detectives stared at each other. 
One of the Boston men, Curtis by name, 
seemed to listen for an instant, then he 
turned in his tracks, and his eyes swept the 
cabin, top and bottom, fore and aft. 

"Don't you hear a clock ticking?" he 
asked, curiously. "Hanged if I see one!" 

As if moved by one will the three other men 
scanned the cabin as he had done. Cer- 
tainly there was no clock in sight, and certainly 
the search had revealed none. All listened 
tensely for an instant. 

"I don't hear anything," remarked von 
Derp, "except the ripple of the water against 
the side of the boat. " 

"It isn't a clock we want, anyway," 
Meredith said abruptly. "I wanted any 
one thing in the world to connect Colquhoun 
with The Hawk and I haven't found it." 

Still Curtis stood listening tensely. Hang 




Page 260 

"The next thing Meredith remembered, he was in icy cold water, 
swimming" 



"I LOVE YOU!" 257 

it, it was a clock! He knew a clock- tick 
when he heard it! It was of no consequence; 
it merely annoyed him. Then suddenly it 
occurred to him that it might be a clock up 
beside the steering wheel outside, and he 
vanished through the companionway. 

An instant later came a little cry from the 
cabin a guttural exclamation of satisfaction 
and he ran in. Meredith had drawn the 
photograph of the thumbprint from his 
pocket, and was showing it to von Derp. 

"That thumbprint was left by The Hawk 
last night in the Newton robbery," he was 
explaining, excitedly. "We have here on 
the white woodwork of the Pyramid that 
identical thumbprint. Examine it yourself!" 

Von Derp did examine it with a curious 
surprised expression on his face. For a long 
time he scrutinized it, comparing every line 
of it with the photograph. When he spoke 
there was an air of finality, almost triumph, 
in his manner. 

"I congratulate you, gentlemen," he said 
in that odd, precise little manner of his. 
"Your problem is solved; identity is proved. 
The thumbprint in the photograph and this 
original are identical. It will be necessary, 
of course, to photograoh it. At Stepping 

17 



258 MY LADY'S GARTER 

Stones I have a splendid camera. Perhaps, 
Meredith, one of your men will run up and 
get it?" 

"Now, Mr. Bruce Colquhoun," and Detec- 
tive Meredith permitted himself to gloat, 
"now, Mr. Bruce Colquhoun, come to 
me!" 

Half an hour later, after the photograph 
had been made and the searching party was 
preparing to leave the boat, Curtis turned for 
one final squint about the cabin, still with 
that puzzled, listening expression on his 
face. 

"I'll bet eight dollars," he remarked to 
the world at large, "that that is a clock 
ticking!" 

Nobody took him up. 

'Twas past midnight, and the full moon, 
riding high, drenched the world in a silver 
sheen. Bruce Colquhoun came out of the 
winding roadway upon the beach; Meredith, 
von Derp, and the two Boston men, patiently 
waiting in the shadow of a bathhouse, saw 
him cross the sandy stretch, slide a dory 
down to the water, and step into it. Just 
as he pushed off they broke cover, and 
came running across the beach toward him. 



"I LOVE YOU!" 259 

Colquhoun saw them coming, and rowed 
rapidly. 

Another dory lay near by. 

"Put her in the water," Meredith com- 
manded, angrily. "We shouldn't have let 
him pass us. Hurry up. He's going to 
run for it." 

Already the small boat, with Bruce aboard, 
was nosing the Pyramid, and as Meredith 
looked he saw his quarry scramble nimbly 
up her side and vanish down the compan- 
ionway. An instant later a light in the cabin 
flashed. 

"Hurry!" Meredith shouted. "If he gets 
away this time !" 

The tide lapped at the bow of the second 
dory, and she floated with four men crowded 
aboard. The clock on the little white church 
in the village boomed one! Meredith, revol- 
ver in hand, stood at the bow of the dory, 
prepared to leap for the Pyramid when she 
came within reach. 

And then then there before his eyes 
came a great gushing flame from the placid 
bosom of the ocean ; and with it a thunderous 
crash under his very nose, and the sea seemed 
to rise in a mass and envelop him. In one 
fraction of a second he had seen the Pyramid 



260 MY LADY'S GARTER 

leap clear of the water and turning, bow 
down, plunge into it again. The next thing 
Meredith remembered, he was in icy cold 
water, swimming. Von Derp was here beside 
him, and on the far side of the overturned 
dory were the two Boston men. Gigantic 
waves flattened out placidly. Where the 
Pyramid had been there was nothing! 

Ten minutes later von Derp and three 
detectives, chilled to the bone, their teeth 
chattering, were lined up along Peggotty 
Beach, staring blankly at the murmuring 
waters. 

"Obviously, it was an explosion of some 
sort," said von Derp. 

"Sounded like dynamite to me," said one 
of the Boston men. 

Gasoline," remarked Curtis, tersely. 
God!" The horror of the thing seemed to 
strike him all at once. "He didn't have a 
chance, did he? The Hawk, I mean." 

"There," said Detective Meredith sol- 
emnly, "there went the cleverest crook of 
all time!" 

It was an epitaph. 

Aroused from horrid dreams by a dull, 
thunderous crash, Cicely Quain arose and 



44 

it 



"I LOVE YOU!" 261 

went to the window of her bedroom. Away 
to the north Minot's Ledge lighthouse shot a 
guiding message into the void. 

"I love you!" Cicely trembled a little as 
she read it. "I love you ! ' ' 

Steadily, steadily, the flashes came to her; 
and again: "I love you!" 



PART IV 

WHO IS THE HAWK ? 

CHAPTER I 
BUFFERING strikes from the spirit of 



youth that splendid assurance which 
makes of youth the charming thing it is. 
It was so in the case of Cicely Quain, or 
Helen Hamilton as she became again now that 
the avalanche of publicity had run its course, 
and she was back in New York. The chasten- 
ing rod of experience had brought a pathetic 
little droop to the rebellious mouth, had 
softened the defiant fire in the blue, blue 
eyes; and the ruddy glow of her cheeks had 
paled to a tender peach-blush. All this, 
merely the reflection of some great change 
wrought within, had etherealized her, trans- 
figured her, made her into that sweetest of 
God's creatures a woman! The shackles 
which had bound her to willfulness were 
severed; there had come even a trace of 
humility into her manner, and surely here 
was a miracle! 

Mercifully the newspaper accounts of the 
destruction of the Pyramid had been brief, 

262 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 263 

and inaccurate, and inadequate. They re- 
cited baldly that Bruce Colquhoun, who 
was wanted by the police for burglary, had 
been killed by an explosion aboard a motor 
boat, whither he had fled to escape arrest, 
and had gone down in the wreck of the boat. 
Either the explosion had been due to an 
accident, or he had purposely blown up the 
Pyramid with the gasoline aboard to avoid 
a long term in prison. There had been no 
effort to raise the boat, and would be none; 
therefore Colquhoun's body had not been 
recovered. 

This was the outward aspect of the affair. 
Helen knew how false it was, knew it deep 
in her aching heart. But what was the truth? 
Bruce Colquhoun had feared some threatening 
unknown thing, she knew he had told her 
so, but in riddles, and she had taunted him 
for his confidence. "I am under sentence 
of death," he had said in explanation of his 
spectacular escape from the watchful police. 
" My executioners were at hand! " And they 
had found him at last! But who were his 
executioners? Why had his death been neces- 
sary? Why had he been unable to explain? 

The inadequate newspaper dispatches had 
contained no reference to the curious mystery 



264 MY LADY'S GARTER 

which had enveloped this masterful, com- 
pelling, arrogant young man there had not 
been even a hint to the world that he was 
supposed to be The Hawk, and Helen was 
grateful for it. All at once she knew she 
never had believed that he was The Hawk! 
She had faith in him, now that he was 
dead ; he had bought back her faith with his 
life ! And more than her faith her love ! She 
didn't deny it even to herself! 

Von Derp had quietly told Mrs. Hamil- 
ton what had happened how Colquhoun, 
trapped in the cabin of the Pyramid, must 
have been instantly killed by the explosion 
which sent the boat to the bottom, and the 
mother had deemed it best to tell the story 
to Helen. The girl had shed no tears, in 
spite of the sudden agony which overwhelmed 
her; there had been little to show her emotion 
beyond the swift blanching of her cheeks. 
She had doubted him! And he had tried 
to make her understand. She did under- 
stand now that it was too late too late! 

Born of the dumb grief which threatened 
to crush her came the thought that she must 
make some reparation to to his memory. 
The ring he had given her! "Whosoever 
hath that ring shall love me forever." She 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 265 

would find it and wear it again! That last 
day, when she returned it to him, he had 
tossed it into a little jungle of wild roses and 
elder bushes and tangled vines; and she 
searched there for hours. Success rewarded 
her efforts at last; she appeared before her 
mother with hands torn and bleeding. 

"Why, my dear!" Mrs. Hamilton had 
exclaimed. ''Whatever is the matter with 
your?" 

"He would have liked for me to wear his 
ring, " Helen had said, simply. " I shall wear 
it, as a token of my faith in him." 

That had been all; Mrs. Hamilton merely 
stared. And within the week, at Helen's 
insistence, Stepping Stones had been closed, 
and the Hamiltons had returned to New 
York. There, her father, harassed almost 
unto madness by his first losing fight in the 
great financial game, heaped reproach upon 
her. She bore it calmly. 

"John Gaunt is ruining me," he stormed. 
"It was in your power to stop him, and you 
have refused. He is fond of that only son 
of his in spite of all his bluster; and if there 
had been a marriage between you if his 
son had become my son-in-law family con- 
siderations would have made him let up on 



266 MY LADY'S GARTER 

me." He was silent a moment. "It may 
not be too late now?" 

"You mean if I should marry Skeets?" 
Helen questioned. 

"Yes," eagerly. 

"But he won't marry me." 

"Why not?" 

"He doesn't love me." 

"Bah!"j 

"And I don't love him." 

1 ' Love ! ' ' The railroad magnate was sneer- 
ing. "Are we a lot of children to be prating 
always of love when my my future your 
future your mother's future may depend 
absolutely upon you? What does it matter 
if he doesn't love you, and you don't love 
him? Love! Is that all there is in the 
world?" 

"Love!" Helen breathed the word softly. 
"Yes," she said, "that's all there is in the 
world!" 

That ended the interview. Brokaw Hamil- 
ton went back to his fight, raging. He felt 
that he had been betrayed, and by his 
own daughter. Now was no time for her 
sentimental whims! There were millions at 
stake ! 

It may have been intuitive consideration, 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 267 

or it may have been some hidden motive 
which had prevented von Derp from mention- 
ing Bruce Colquhoun, even indirectly, to 
Helen in those days of her tense grief. The 
change in her was obvious, and upon the 
return of the Hamiltons to New York he had 
gracefully withdrawn from the household 
and quartered himself at a downtown hotel. 
Two or three times she had seen him; and 
vaguely she was grateful for his failure to 
hark back to the tragedy. 

Came a day, however, when von Derp, 
immaculate as ever, exquisitely precise in his 
courtesy, had called at the Hamilton mansion 
in The Bronx, and there in his odd ultra- 
correct manner had poured out his heart to 
the girl. He loved her, he had said; he had 
loved her from the first time he had seen her. 
Helen felt, as her mother had once felt, the 
deep sincerity of his profession. For the first 
time she was conscious of the actual man 
behind the mask of convention; and she was 
inclined to be gentle. 

"I don't believe," she had said finally, 
"that I shall every marry any one." 

"In the beginning I understood that you 
were engaged to Mr. Gaunt," von Derp 
explained, "therefore I could not speak. 



268 MY LADY'S GARTER 

My understanding must have been correct, 
because when I telegraphed to your father 
for permission to pay my my addresses, 
he assured me that your hand was pledged. 
But now I know that Mr. Gaunt, whatever 
his interest in you may have been, is 
interested elsewhere, and I have hoped 
that" 

"I don't believe," she repeated, "that I 
shall ever marry any one." 

Von Derp seemed lost in meditation for a 
moment. Then: 

"May I hope that if there comes a change 
in your what shall I say? your viewpoint, 
that I?" 

"Mr. von Derp," Helen interrupted, "how 
well did you know Mr. Colquhoun?" 

The young man lifted his pale yellow brows 
and opened his brown eyes wide. 

"How well did I know him?" he repeated. 
"As well as you did, perhaps, but " 

"You, my mother, the police all those 
who know most of this this strange affair 
have taken it for granted, since Mr. Colqu- 
houn's death, that he was The Hawk. I 
am right in assuming that you believe it even 
now, am I not?" 

" I can hardly believe otherwise, " von Derp 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 269 

confessed, with a deprecatory gesture of his 
hands. "I doubt if you understand " 

"After all," Helen ran on again, "I knew 
Mr. Colquhoun better than any one else, I 
think. I know, for instance, that he had 
never a fear of the police, as people seem to 
think he had; I know that his fear was of 
something mysterious, some menacing, threat- 
ening thing that had nothing to do with the 
police. It was fear of that that Thing 
that made it necessary for him to conceal his 
identity. But he only feared death! He is 
dead now dead, and in death forever iden- 
tified with a notorious criminal. To an 
extent he confided in me, believed in me. To 
me it seems a duty to clear his name of the 
shame which rests upon it. That can be 
done by establishing his true identity; a 
clever man can do that. Can you?" 

For a minute perhaps von Derp stared at 
her. She was sitting with her slim hands 
clasped tightly between her knees, gazing 
into nothingness. 

"Nothing was further from my intention 
than to precipitate a discussion of " von 
Derp began, apologetically. 

"I know, I know deep in my heart, that 
Bruce Colquhoun and The Hawk were not 



270 MY LADY'S GARTER 

the same," Helen continued slowly, "and a 
clever man can prove it. By proving it he 
can dissipate the ignominy which enshrouds 
Bruce Colquhoun. Can you do it? Will 
you do it for me?" She waited. "You 
say you love me. Do you love me well 
enough to clear another man a dead man 
of the hideous charges that stand against 
him?" 

Von Derp arose suddenly, the serenity of 
his face disturbed by some powerful emotion 
within. 

"I do," he declared abruptly, violently. 
"I love you well enough to do anything in 
this world for you anything!" Helen 
glanced up, a little astonished at his vehe- 
mence; his gaze was burning into her 
own. "And if I do clear Bruce Colquhoun's 
memory of the shame that rests upon it if 
I do?" 

"I shall be grateful," Helen said simply. 

"I shall demand more than gratitude," 
von Derp warned her. "If it is possible for 
the thing to be done I will do it. And then 
when I have done it?" He was questioning 
her with his eyes. "I could make you very 
happy. May I, then, ask you if may I 
ask you the question I have just asked?" 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 271 

There was almost a promise in Helen's 
clear blue eyes as she raised them to his. 

"When the thing is done, " she said slowly, 
" I shall not forget the debt I owe. " 

"But," and von Derp's shapely hands 
were writhing, "that is not sufficient. If I 
clear Bruce Colquhoun's name of " 

"Come back when you have done it. " 

Motionless, von Derp stood for a long time 
with his gaze fixed upon her eagerly, tensely. 
There was something curiously diaphanous, 
effulgent even, in the way the light struck her 
hair. Bending, he pressed his lips to her 
marble-cold hand, and an instant later he 
was gone. 



CHAPTER II 

r I "HERE was an inquiring uplift of Brokaw 
JL Hamilton's brows as the door of his 
study opened and August von Derp entered. 
The railroad magnate looked him over 
critically, curiously; he didn't recall that he 
had ever seen an individual more perfectly 
groomed. The lemon-colored hair had just 
enough wave in it, the yellow beard was of 
just the proper length and was pointed math- 
ematically; even the dinner dress von Derp 
wore looked as if it had been fitted to him by 
geometrical rules. 

"May I have ten minutes five minutes?" 
he asked. 

"Certainly," the millionaire assented. 
"Sit down." 

" Thanks. And you don't mind if I smoke? " 

"Not at all." 

Brokaw Hamilton settled back in his chair, 
and watched von Derp select and light a 
cigarette. At last : 

"You will remember, Mr. Hamilton," the 
young man began without further prelimi- 
nary, "that a short time since I telegraphed 
you from Satuit, asking your permission to 

272 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 273 

pay my addresses to your daughter? You 
will also remember that you answered my 
telegram with the statement that your daugh- 
ter's hand was pledged to another?" 

"I remember, yes." 

"That was true at that time but it is 
not true to-day," von Derp continued pre- 
cisely. "Mr. Gaunt I am speaking with 
his permission is about to announce his 
engagement to a Miss Dale of Satuit. I 
hope, this being the case, that I may repeat 
my request with the assurance that your 
answer this time will be more favorable?" 

So there had been a rupture of some sort 
between Helen and Skeets! In this Brokaw 
Hamilton discovered the mystery behind 
Helen's refusal to marry Skeets even even to 
stop John Gaunt's merciless warfare upon 
himself; even to hold the Hamilton millions 
intact. He nodded grimly. 

"I will say, too," von Derp added, "that 
your daughter has intimated that, under 
certain conditions, my attentions to her 
would not be distasteful. " 

"Those conditions being?" 

"I am not at liberty to state them," von 
Derp replied courteously. "She is not, of 
course, unaware of my devotion to her. " 

13 



274 MY LADY'S GARTER 

For a long time the railroad magnate pon- 
dered it with clouded brow, oblivious of the 
young man who was waiting patiently for 
his answer. The longer he considered the 
situation the less chance von Derp had for 
the answer he wanted. After all, there had 
merely been some silly quarrel between Skeets 
and Helen; and lovers' quarrels are easily 
adjusted. Immediate adjustment of this 
particular quarrel might mean a match be- 
tween Skeets and Helen after all; and that 
would mean Brokaw Hamilton smiled, 
confidently. 

"Even under the conditions you state," 
he said slowly, "I will have to disappoint 
you." Came a sudden, steely glitter into 
his eyes. "I hope you won't ask for my 
reasons, because I would be compelled to 
refuse them." 

There was a shade of chagrin in von 
Derp's hitherto placid face. He flipped the 
ashes from his cigarette, then arose abruptly. 
When he spoke, however, his voice was 
still casual, precise, unemotional. 

"You won't mind if I lock the door?" he 
questioned, as he turned the key. 

The click of the lock startled Brokaw 
Hamilton he couldn't have explained why. 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 275 

He straightened up in his chair, vaguely 
conscious of a menace in the velvety calm of 
the other. 

"Why is it necessary to lock the door?" 
he demanded, curtly. 

"Because," von Derp answered, "I may 
say some things that you you would not 
like to have overheard. " 

"But there's nothing further to be said 
about " 

"Pardon me, there is much to be said." 
Von Derp returned to his chair. "Your 
daughter has placed me under an obligation 
to to do a certain thing. Before I proceed 
it is necessary that you and I have a complete 
understanding. You have played a promi- 
nent part in the " 

' ' The interview is ended. ' ' Brokaw Hamil- 
ton arose angrily. "There is nothing further 
to be said." 

Von Derp leaned back in his chair, calmly 
insolent. 

"I dare say, Mr. Hamilton," he re- 
marked, "that you have never discovered 
that the letter of introduction I brought 
you from a business associate of yours in 
Amsterdam one Wilhelm von Derp was a 
forgery?" 



276 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"A forgery?" It came explosively, in- 
credulously. 

"A forgery," von Derp repeated. "I am 
not Wilhelm von Derp's son as a matter 
of fact, I don't know if he has a son. And 
von Derp is not my name. " 

After one inarticulate burst of astonish- 
ment, the railroad magnate stood motionless, 
glaring down at his caller. 

"I didn't imagine you would take the 
trouble to make inquiries about me," von 
Derp went on evenly, "and I was correct 
in my surmise. It is a common American 
fault. It remained for me to confess that 
I am" 

"An impostor!" exclaimed Mr. Hamilton. 

"That is the word, yes, an impostor," the 
young man agreed calmly. "If you'll sit 
down a moment " 

"An impostor!" The millionaire repeated 
the phrase violently. "An impostor and a 
forger!" 

"Right," said von Derp. "If you'll sit 
down " 

"If you're not von Derp's son, then who 
are you?" 

' ' We are coming to that. Please sit down. " 

Brokaw Hamilton strode the length of the 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 277 

study twice; von Derp, still smoking, watched 
him imperturbably, with a little cynical 
uplift of his lips. 

"I'll expose you, of course," Mr. Hamilton 
declared hotly. "Impositions of that sort 
and forgery are crimes in " 

"And you will not expose me." 

"Why not?" 

"Oh, there are several reasons, the first 
being that you would bring another flood of 
obnoxious publicity about you and your 
family, and they would have to run away 
from it again, and " 

"Bah! That feature would have the least 
consideration of " 

"Well, then, there are other reasons why 
you won't expose me, as you express it," 
von Derp mocked. "For instance, I," his 
whole manner changed; the polish sloughed 
off, "I am one of the two men living who 
know that you are the American millionaire 
now being sought by Scotland Yard in con- 
nection with the theft of the Countess of 
Salisbury's garter from the British Museum; 
and, further, I am the only man living who 
knows that old Daddy Heinz was your agent 
in that theft, and therefore, since the police 
were hot after you, it was to your advantage 



2 78 MY LADY'S GARTER 

to get rid of him; and I am the only man 
living who knows that you were the last person 
with him on the night he was murdered! Still 
further, I am the only man living who knows 
that you have in your possession at this moment 
a certain diamond which was taken out of the 
garter!" He stopped. "Now, will you sit 
down?" 

Stricken mute, with some hideous growing 
terror deep in his eyes, the millionaire listened 
to the end, then went reeling away from von 
Derp as if from a blow. The young man 
smiled unpleasantly as his host dropped back 
weakly into the desk chair. 

"Not murder, no," Brokaw Hamilton 
denied hoarsely. "I didn't kill him!" 

"I can prove that you did!" 

" 'Twas some one else who shot him," the 
words rushed out almost incoherently from 
pallid lips, "some one who came in unex- 
pectedly. I was in a back room, waiting " 

"So you were there that night!" There 
was triumphant emphasis in von Derp's 
tone. "I thought I could not have been 
mistaken. " 

In the grip of a ghastly fear that left him 
dead white the railroad magnate staggered 
to his feet and leaned wearily against a window 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 279 

sill, fighting for a self-possession that had 
never before deserted him. The young man, 
placidly smoking, waited for him to speak. 

"I I if you accuse me," the words 
came falteringly at last, "I shall tell the 
truth! I am innocent!" 

"I have no intention of accusing you," 
von Derp assured him with a languid gesture. 
" I am merely trying to make you understand 
why my claims to the hand of your daughter 
are not to be summarily dismissed. Also, 
it will seem very curious for you to tell the 
truth, as you express it, at this late date. " 

For the first time in his life Brokaw Hamil- 
ton had come face to face with terror. He 
shook as with an ague; panic was upon him. 
The imperturbability of his accuser crushed 
the last ounce of resistance out of nerves 
already racked by the financial conflict with 
John Gaunt. Came now no denial remained 
only curiosity. 

"In the name of God, who are you?" 
Brokaw Hamilton now demanded hollowly. 
" What are you? How do you know these 
things? How did you learn them?" 

"Who am I?" von Derp mused. "The 
name you know me by is sufficient. What am 
I? I have the honor to be a special agent 



2 8o MY LADY'S GARTER 

of the Imperial Secret Service of Germany. 
How have I learned all this? It is my busi- 
ness to know things." 

' ' Germany? ' ' in bewilderment. ' ' I thought 
England Scotland Yard men " 

"My knowledge of your affairs of the 
affair of the Countess of Salisbury's garter 
is purely accidental," von Derp explained, 
pleasantly. "Originally I came to this coun- 
try to search for certain of the crown jewels of 
Germany which disappeared a few months 
ago. In my investigations I stumbled upon 
the fact that you were implicated in the garter 
affair it was a treasure to add to your art 
collection. It occurred to me that a man who 
would be interested in that affair might be 
interested in other art treasures specifically, 
those jewels which belong to the German 
crown. So my interest in you was aroused; 
I found it necessary to reach you socially, 
to be close to you so I forged the letter of 
introduction from a man whom, I learned, 
was a business associate of yours in Amster- 
dam. You know the remainder of that." 

"Then, as I understand it, you have no 
direct interest in " A gleam of hope 
lighted the millionaire's pallid face. 

"The garter?" von Derp [finished. "Not 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 281 

the slightest. It merely happens that I 
discovered your your complicity in that 
affair, and now that Daddy Heinz is dead 
I am the only man living, except your attor- 
ney, who is aware of it. I may add that I 
know the jewels I seek are not in your posses- 
sion and never have been." 

"Nor is the garter in my possession, now," 
the millionaire supplemented. 

"I know that, too." 

"Perhaps you know who has it?" 

"And I know that. The garter is now in 
the possession of a notorious criminal known 
as The Hawk." 

Fell a long silence. Von Derp lighted 
another cigarette and amused himself by 
blowing precise little ringlets of smoke into 
the air. Slowly the color came again to 
Brokaw Hamilton's face, and with it some of 
that self-possession which had deserted him 
utterly at the first mention of those things 
which he had imagined unknown to any man 
save himself. 

"Knowing all that you do, " fear was still 
tugging at his heart, "what do you intend 
doing?" 

"I?" Von Derp seemed a little surprised. 
"Nothing. These things are none of my 



282 MY LADY'S GARTER 

affair. I mentioned them only to convince 
you that it would not be wise to expose me, 
as you express it, because my incognito is 
necessary; also to impress upon you the 
desirability of giving due consideration to 
my request for permission to pay my addresses 
to your daughter. I come of one of the best 
families of Germany, a family of position 
and wealth equal to your own. I am in the 
Imperial Secret Service because it amuses 
me that's all." 

"I am to understand then that you are 
threatening me? You demand my daughter's 
hand as the price of your silence?" 

"That is just as you look at it," was the 
reply. " I hope before you give me a definite 
answer that you will bear in mind the fact 
that / can prove that you killed Daddy Heinz!" 

"There you involve moral obligations. 
If you can prove that, why don't you deliver 
me over to the police?" There was no 
answer. "What is the moral attitude of a 
man who knows that another is guilty of 
murder and refuses to surrender him in con- 
sideration of a price in this case, my daugh- 
ter's hand?" 

"It is not unlike the moral attitude of a 
man who, possessed of enormous wealth, 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 283 

connives at the theft of an art treasure he 
is unable to buy connives at the theft and 
conspires to conceal it." 

Brokaw Hamilton had never thought of 
it in just that way; the freshness of the 
viewpoint startled him a little. 

"I am innocent of the murder of Daddy 
Heinz you should know I am incapable 
of it." There was a deadly calm in the rail- 
road magnate's manner now. "Just how 
would you proceed to convict an innocent 
man of such a crime?" 

" Let's go back a bit, " suggested von Derp, 
obligingly, and his shallow eyes narrowed 
slightly. "Let's go back to the night young 
Mr. Gaunt was arrested. Some hours pre- 
ceding that you had been informed that 
Scotland Yard men were in America looking 
for that garter, that they suspected it was 
in possession of some rich American art col- 
lector who had actually participated in the 
theft, else had secretly bought it, knowing 
it to be stolen. Very well. You were either 
conscience stricken or afraid, so after consul- 
tation with your lawyer, Winthrop Power, 
you planned to return the garter to the police. 
The scheme was to place the garter in a vacant 
house where the police would find it with no 



284 MY LADY'S GARTER 

clue as to how it got there. That was to 
end your connection with the affair. You 
would have made restitution. Am I right 
so far?" 

The millionaire didn't answer; he was fas- 
cinated by this clear, concise recital of things 
that he had imagined were locked safely in 
his own brain. 

"I am right." Von Derp answered his own 
question. "You and Mr. Power went to 
that vacant house in his automobile Number 
1234 and placed the garter on the mantel 
in a ground-floor room. This done, Mr. 
Power telephoned to the nearest police 
station to say where the garter would be 
found. Already Mr. Dexter, of Scotland 
Yard, had sent out broadcast to the police 
a description of the garter, so they made a 
rush for it. Somehow, ridiculously enough, 
young Mr. Gaunt was entangled, but what 
I have said covers your actual participation 
in the garter affair. And now we come to 
the murder of old Daddy Heinz." 

Brokaw Hamilton shuddered a little as 
von Derp paused and thoughtfully poked 
his finger through a smoke ring. 

"How I learned all this is immaterial," 
he continued after a moment. "I did learn 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 285 

it. So when you called at the house in West 
Thirtieth Street to see Daddy Heinz I was 
in reach always, you will bear in mind, with 
an eye to locating the jewels I am seeking. 
I was within hearing distance when the three 
shots that killed the old man were fired; 
you were the only other person in that house. 
You" 

"There was another man there," Hamilton 
broke in quickly. "I have explained " 

"Who was he?" von Derp flashed. 
"Where is he? Can you say, even, what he 
looked like?" 

"I can swear that only one person left 
that house after the shots were fired," von 
Derp said slowly, "and that you were that 
person! I can swear to that because I saw 
you! So, you see, we have a motive for 
murder, exclusive opportunity, and now 
if further proof is needed you have in 
your possession at this moment one of the 
diamonds out of the garter a single stone 
that had found its way back to Daddy 
Heinz. That's all." He stopped abruptly 
and arose. Instantly he became again the 
courteous, mathematically precise individual 
who had entered the room half an hour 
before. "I have the honor," he said, "to 



286 MY LADY'S GARTER 

ask your permission to pay my addresses 
to your daughter. " 

"No!" The single word came violently; 
again Brokaw Hamilton had gone deathly 
white. 

"Don't be hasty, please. Take time, if 
you like, and think it over." 

"No!" 

"Always remembering that / can prove 
that you killed Daddy Heinz? 11 

"No! That is final." 

For half a minute von Derp remained 
standing, searching the other's face for a 
sign of weakness. 

"Very well," he said at last. He dropped 
down into his chair and drew the desk tele- 
phone toward him. "Give me the nearest 
police station quick ! " 

No man may know the torturing thoughts 
that swept in a flood through the millionaire's 
mind; no man may judge his acts, or the 
motives that prompted those acts. 

"Hello!" Von Derp was talking. "Who 
is this? The police station? Just a mo- 
ment, please!" He glanced up at Brokaw 
Hamilton. 

"I I think I will take time to to think 
it over," the millionaire was saying. His 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 287 

face was haggard. "A week perhaps? I 
I don' t know " 

Von Derp nodded; then into the trans- 
mitter: 

"I beg your pardon," he apologized. 
"There's a mistake in the number. I'm 
sorry." 

Vaguely Brokaw Hamilton was conscious 
of a clatter as the receiver was returned to 
the hook. And then he seemed to be alone ! 
Von Derp, in the drawing room, was laughing 
lightly at some trivial anecdote Mrs. Hamilton 
was telling. 



CHAPTER III 

and effect are as widely separated 
as the poles. Toss a stone into a 
millpond and the ripples arising therefrom 
go scudding away to its remotest corners. 
Tossed into the New York police department, 
the mystery of my lady's garter sent ripples 
to the uttermost ends of the earth. The 
effect as a whole was as incongruous as it was 
widespread, and as widespread as it was 
apparently disassociated in its several units 
from a series of inexplicable incidents which 
transpired categorically in New York, the 
center of agitation. Yet each effect could be 
traced to a common cause. 

For instance, in St. Petersburg the effect 
was a hurried meeting of the Russian cabinet ; 
in Rio Janeiro an Englishman put on false 
whiskers; in Tokyo an American adopted 
Japanese dress; in Washington, the British 
ambassador lost a rubber at bridge; in Berlin, 
Mynherr, the superintendent of the Imperial 
Secret Service, received an odd cable dispatch ; 
in Paterson, New Jersey, a jail was filled 
with nihilists; in Boston, a detective's beans 
grew cold because he was late for dinner; in 

288 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 289 

London, three Scotland Yard men developed 
nervous headaches; in Satuit, Steve Ricketts, 
town constable, cherished grave doubts as 
to whether or not he would ever get 
back eighty-five cents he had spent for a 
telegram. In New York all sorts of things 
happened. 

As I have said, all these things were 
tangibly, albeit tenuously, connected. The 
Englishman in Rio Janeiro who put on false 
whiskers was the individual who had stolen 
the garter originally from the British Museum, 
selling it later to Daddy Heinz ; the American 
in Tokyo had been his accomplice in that 
theft, and he adopted native dress as a 
disguise; in Washington the British ambas- 
sador had been directed by his government 
to request this government to check news- 
paper discussion of the garter affair until the 
millionaire malefactor had been brought to 
justice, and this unusual request upset him 
so he lost his rubber; the cable dispatch to 
Berlin had asked for a minute description of 
the missing crown jewels, and was signed 
Meredith; the detective's beans grew cold 
in Boston because he was comparing two 
thumbprints; the Scotland Yard men in 
London developed headaches because of a 

19 



2 9 o MY LADY'S GARTER , 

stern rebuke from the foreign office for their 
failure to recover the garter. 

There were important consequences as a 
result of the hurried cabinet meeting in St. 
Petersburg first, a wholesale arrest of 
nihilists some twoscore men and half a 
dozen women gathered in from all parts of 
the Russian empire; and as an echo of that, 
fourteen nihilists were captured in Paterson, 
New Jersey, by special agents. So the Czar 
slept in peace because the backbone of the 
greatest nihilistic machine in the world was 
broken. 

Now we come down to the things that were 
happening in New York. Chronologically 
they came after this fashion : 

Detective Meredith received a telephone 
message from a private suite of the Ritz- 
Carlton. He was informed that the Russian 
ambassador was desirous of seeing him im- 
mediately, so Meredith hurried there. The 
ambassador in person received him. 

"Some few days since, Mr. Meredith,", 
the diplomatist began, "while you were in 
Satuit you received anonymously by mail 
from Boston a roughly drawn floor plan of a 
house with the words " he consulted his 
notebook, " or, I should say, some figures 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 291 

and one word: '21 Willow 7/3.' That is 
correct?" 

"Yes," Meredith assented in wonder. 

"You made some investigation as a result 
of that, I suppose?" 

"I did." 

"May I inquire the result of that investi- 
gation?" the ambassador pursued. "I will 
pledge myself to secrecy if you wish. " 

"It isn't necessary," and the detective 
shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing worth 
while happened. There had been several 
jewel robberies in Boston, all presumably the 
work of one man a notorious criminal known 
as The Hawk. There are several Willow 
streets in the suburbs of Boston. Number 21 
of one of these I found to be the home of a 
wealthy family; and the 7/3 was obviously a. 
date of some sort. Therefore on the night of 
July 3, the family having been called away, I 
took possession of the house, and waited." 

" And what ?" 

"Nothing. At least, there was no sign of 
The Hawk. My men stationed outside must 
have frightened him away, if indeed he 
had contemplated a robbery there. Inci- 
dentally, I made the acquaintance that night 
of another man who was after The Hawk 



292 MY LADY'S GARTER 

this being Mr. August von Derp of the Impe- 
rial Secret Service of Germany. He waited 
with us until dawn. It seems that some of 
the crown jewels of Germany have disap- 
peared, and he had reason to believe they 
were in The Hawk's possession." 

The ambassador smoked a vile Russian 
cigarette down to the very dregs; Meredith 
lighted a cigar in self-defense. 

"You never knew who sent you the plan 
of the house?" asked the diplomatist. 

"Oh, yes. Von Derp sent it." 

"Indeed?" in surprise. 

"He had no authority to make an arrest, 
and wanted me on hand if The Hawk should 
appear." 

" I see, " and the diplomatist smiled suavely. 
"That is all, I think. I thank you." 

Meredith swallowed a few questions that 
he would have liked to have answered, for 
instance: What business had the Russian 
ambassador in all this? And how did he 
happen to know so much about it? How- 
ever, Meredith was growing used to finding 
questions to which there seemed no answer, 
so he let it go at that. 

The next thing to happen in New York, 
bearing on the mystery in hand, was the 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 293 

sudden and complete collapse of Brokaw 
Hamilton. Old John Gaunt, en route to 
his office, picked up a morning paper to find 
that his arch-enemy had gone down under the 
strain of the great financial fight, and had 
taken to his bed, desperately ill. 

"Oh, hell!" said John Gaunt. 

Half a dozen subordinates awaited him; 
they were smiling, every one. With Brokaw 
Hamilton ill and out of the game there was 
nothing now to hinder the immediate accom- 
plishment of John Gaunt 's designs on his 
millions. Already the market was trembling, 
industrials were panicky; it remained only 
for the coal baron to go smashing through 
at will. Under his immediate direction they 
were to do the smashing. 

John Gaunt came into his office like a 
thunder cloud. The first thing he did was 
to call up Brokaw Hamilton's home on the 
telephone. 

"How is Mr. Hamilton?" he demanded. 

"Very ill, " came the reply. 

"What's the matter with him?" 

"A nervous breakdown, sir. Two physi- 
cians remained with him all night." 

"Unable to attend to business, I sup- 
pose?" 



294 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Oh, yes, sir. The physicians say it may 
be months before " 

"All right, thanks. Tell him Mr. John 
Gaunt inquired about his condition." He 
hung up the receiver and turned to his sub- 
ordinates. "The fight's all off, " he declared. 
"There's no glory in licking a dead man. I 
got about six millions out of him, anyway. 
That'll hold me for a spell." He scribbled 
some orders on a sheet of paper. "Get in 
the market and stop it, ' ' he ordered. ' ' Believe 
me, when Hamilton gets well again I'll take 
his watch!" 

The third thing to happen was some 
strange metamorphosis in Helen. One after- 
noon she dropped in to tea at the St. Regis, 
alone. There was a drooping sadness about 
the rosebud mouth, mute anguish in the blue, 
blue eyes, a settled melancholy in her manner, 
a pensive note in her voice. She remained 
there until the limousine came up from down- 
town with her mother and here was a new 
Helen; the Helen of old, rosy cheeked, spark- 
ling, buoyant. There was a spring in her 
walk, and a laugh on her lips, and a flash 
of that old defiant fire in the depths of the 
blue, blue eyes. 

Mrs. Hamilton stared at her, amazed. 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 295 

Miracles of this sort were wrought only by 
that greatest necromancer of them all Dan 
Cupid. 

"Heavens!" she soliloquized, "the child 
falls in and out of love as a duck goes in and 
out of water." Then aloud: "What is it, 
my dear?" 

In the seclusion of the limousine Helen 
threw her vigorous young arms around her 
mother, and squeezed her until she grunted. 

"What is the matter?" Mrs. Hamilton 
was alarmed. 

"What do you think?" Helen demanded. 
"Mr. von Derp asked me to marry him!" 

"And," there was resignation in Mrs. 
Hamilton's manner, "and are you so happy 
because of that?" 

"No," said Helen enigmatically, "I'm 
happy in spite of it!" 

Von Derp was at great concern as a result 
of the next happening in the series. Osten- 
sibly he called at the Hamilton home to 
inquire after Mr. Hamilton; and once there 
he took advantage of the situation to remain 
to dinner. Helen fairly bubbled; he was 
charmed. Keen delight alternated swiftly 
in his face with some subtle thing which 
seemed to be bewilderment. 



29 6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"What's the matter?" Helen asked curi- 
ously at last. "You look as if you had been 
sent for and couldn't go?" 

"Nothing of consequence," he replied, in 
that odd little way of his. "I had a sort 
of shock this afternoon. I was in the grill 
at the Knickerbocker, when I chanced to 
look out into the lobby, and saw a man 
whom," he was leaning forward, with his 
eyes fixed tensely on hers, "whom I would 
have sworn was Bruce Colquhoun!" 

" Bruce Colquhoun ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ham- 
ilton. 

"You didn't see his face?" Helen asked, 
quickly. 

"No," was the reply. " 'Twas only a 
glimpse. He was hurrying through. By the 
time I reached the door he was gone. But 
the impression was so strong that " 

"Nonsense!" Helen reproved him flip- 
pantly. "Bruce Colquhoun is dead." She 
speared an olive with her fork. "You're 
seeing things." 

The heartlessness of the remark was trans- 
parent. Mrs. Hamilton opened her beautiful 
eyes to their widest; von Derp seemed more 
puzzled than ever. And this was the girl 
who had pledged him to clear Colquhoun's 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 297 

name of ignominy! A strange chain of 
thought ran through his mind. 

"I may judge from your tone," he began 
courteously, and again his shallow eyes were 
fixed upon her, "that the obligation you 
placed upon me, then, is of no no conse- 
quence?" 

"Not the slightest," Helen assured him, 
with a dazzling smile. "I wouldn't worry 
about it. I dare say Bruce Colquhoun was 
The Hawk, after all!" 



CHAPTER IV 

A^D last, came a happening so weird, so 
fantastic, so bizarre, that Brokaw 
Hamilton could hardly convince himself that 
it was a reality. Surely this was the beginning 
of madness. First was the torturing thought 
it was just that and nothing else; and out 
of that grew a keen, childlike interest which 
kept him waiting tensely for developments, 
as one does in a fairy story. 

In his own room in his own home at dead 
of night it happened. Pallid, and weak, and 
nerve-racked he lay, staring with wide eyes 
into the darkness. His physicians had gone; 
his nurse in an adjoining room had dropped 
off to sleep. Without having heard a sound, 
the financier became suddenly aware of the 
fact that there was some one else in the room. 
His nurse, perhaps; she had crept in silent- 
shod, to see if he was all right. 

"Who's there? "he asked. 

Instantly he was bathed in light from an 
electric flash. It dazzled him. He raised 
his hands to shield his eyes. Simultaneously 
he discovered that there was a nasty looking 

298 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 299 

revolver beside the light; it was pointed 
directly at his breast. 

"Now don't call any one, and don't move, " 
came a warning from the pall behind the 
light. "You may put your hands down." 

Obediently the millionaire lowered them. 

"Who are you?" he asked. 

"I am The Hawk!" 

It was a simple introduction, but an effec- 
tive one. There was almost a touch of pride 
in the intruder's tone. Brokaw Hamilton for- 
got that he was ill, and sat up straight in bed. 

"The Hawk!" he repeated. 

"Not so loud, please, " came the command. 
"Don't forget that the nurse is asleep in the 
next room, and we wouldn't care to disturb 
her." 

"What do you want?" Vainly the finan- 
cier tried to pierce the darkness beyond the 
glare of the flash. 

"I had an impression that you'd be lonely, 
and I dropped in for a few minutes' conver- 
sation," was the cheerful response. "You 
won't mind if I lock the door into the nurse's 
room, will you? And the door into the hall? 
Then you may turn on your night light, and 
we'll be cozy." 

Fascinated, the financier watched his visitor 



300 MY LADY'S GARTER 

as he silently turned the keys in the locks. 

"Now," said The Hawk, "you may turn 
on the light beside your bed." 

Mr. Hamilton's hand trembled with eager- 
ness as he reached for the button. He was 
overwhelmed with curiosity to see this man 
face to face. But he didn't. The Hawk was 
masked. A black hood was drawn down over 
his head to his shoulders; a pair of pleasant 
brown eyes looked out through a narrow slit. 
He drew up a chair and sat down. 

"If you'll just remember now that I have 
this revolver," he remarked, "we'll get along 
nicely. Nothing's going to happen. I'm 
here looking for information. " 

"Information?" the sick man repeated, 
dully. 

"You got me," said The Hawk tersely. 
His voice was rather agreeable, Mr. Hamilton 
thought; confident, good-natured, vibrant 
with cheeriness. "You know," The Hawk 
went on, "if I'm ever taken not that I ever 
expect to be, but if I am I'll find myself 
in some pickle, believe me, concerning one 
little thing. That's why I am here. " 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Coming down to brass tacks, Mr. Hamil- 
ton," said The Hawk, "did you, or did you 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 301 

not, kill old Daddy Heinz?" He paused. 
"I know it's a personal question, but I must 
know the answer. " 

Yes, it was madness. The financier was 
convinced now. Suddenly it seemed that 
everybody in the world knew he had been in 
the house the night Daddy Heinz was killed! 
Instinctively he was on the defensive. 

"Why do you ask me that?" he demanded 
instantly. 

"You know, " The Hawk went on in cheer- 
ful explanation, "I was in the house the night 
Daddy Heinz was killed; and there's a 
warrant out against me for his murder. Now 
/ didn't kill him, but I know you were in that 
house because I saw you. I heard the shots; 
I ran to the top of the stairs, and saw you 
passing along the hallway with a revolver 
in your hand. Also, I saw you leaning over 
the body. Then I saw you pick up some- 
thing I think perhaps it was a diamond, and 
then well, I began to get the idea that the 
police might have heard the shots and would 
hustle in, so I grabbed my belongings and 
hauled my freight. Now, what I want to 
know is, if you killed Daddy Heinz. You see 
I know / didn't; but there's a warrant charg- 
ing me with it, and if I'm ever pinched I'll 



3 02 MY LADY'S GARTER 

have to know all about what actually hap- 
pened. In a way, we are in the same boat." 

For a long time there was silence; the 
financier's hands writhed nervously, then 
under the friendly stare of The Hawk's eyes 
he seemed to grow suddenly calm. Here 
was a fairy tale; he was living a part of it. 

"Suppose, " he questioned at last, "suppose 
I should deny I was in that house? " 

"Oh, come now." The Hawk was quite 
good-natured about it. "I saw you, you 
know. Don't be afraid to tell me, for, 
believe me, I'm not going to appear in court 
against you. I merely want to know what 
actually happened. " 

Positively, there was something winning 
in The Hawk's manner. Mr. Hamilton felt 
braced, exhilarated. If this was a fairy tale 
it was a good one. 

"I'll tell you frankly," he said. "I went 
to the place to see the old man about 
about" 

"The garter thing. I know," interrupted 
The Hawk. 

"While I was talking to him the electric 
buzz sounded, and it seemed to startle him 
the buzz that connects with the front door, 
I mean. He asked me to step into a rear 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 303 

room for a minute, and I did so. I was there, 
perhaps for five minutes, when I heard three 
shots. I had a revolver. I drew it and ran 
along the hall, with the one idea of protecting 
myself and escaping. As I ran into the hall 
I heard the front door bang some one 
going out. Daddy Heinz was lying on the 
floor, alone. I went in, terrified. I hastily 
examined the body, and I got a splotch of 
of blood on my hand!" He shuddered. 
"There was a revolver on the floor I didn't 
touch that. But I did pick up a diamond 
which, I had reason to believe, came out of 
the Countess of Salisbury's garter. I was 
able to recognize it by the old-fashioned 
cutting the rose cutting. My intention was 
to save it until opportunity presented to 
return it to the rightful owners. I have it 
yet." 

The Hawk nodded understandingly. 

"I believe you," he said, graciously. "It 
doesn't sound like the truth at that, does it? 
But neither would my story, so far as that 
goes." 

Again fell a silence. The Hawk thought- 
fully spun his revolver on his finger. 

"You went to see old Daddy Heinz be- 
cause ?" 



3 o 4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Because," the financier finished, "the 
garter disappeared mysteriously at the very 
moment I was trying to return it, through the 
police, to the British government. I imag- 
ined, perhaps, Daddy Heinz, from whom I 
bought it originally, might know some- 
thing" 

"I get you," interrupted The Hawk. 
"And the key to the house? You had one? " 

"Yes. Daddy Heinz gave it to me. Pre- 
viously I had made half a dozen trips there. " 

The Hawk sat bobbing his head thought- 
fully. Mr. Hamilton continued: 

"There is a widespread belief that that 
garter is now in your possession?" 

"It is," The Hawk agreed. "Like to see 
it?" 

He produced it, and dangled it before 
the financier's astonished eyes. The sheer 
beauty of the trinket kindled a covetous 
blaze deep in the millionaire's brain. Invol- 
untarily he reached for it; The Hawk with- 
drew it. 

"That missing stone," The Hawk ex- 
plained, "is the one you have. I gouged it 
out and hocked it with Daddy Heinz the day 
he was murdered. " 

"Will you sell that?" asked Mr. Hamilton. 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 305 

"No," The Hawk laughed. "I thought 
you'd had enough of it. " 

"I will buy it, if you will sell it, and return 
it to the British government. " 

"Nothing doing." 

"I'll give you twenty-five thousand dollars 
for it." 

"No." 

"Fifty?" 

' ' No. I have another use for it ; and besides 
I don't need the money. I've cleaned up a 
quarter of a million in the last month, and 
incidentally had a lot of fun with Meredith. " 
He chuckled. ' ' He's a funny gink, Meredith. ' r 

He arose, and stretched himself lazily. He 
was slender, almost boyish in figure, graceful, 
sinewy built like a steel bridge. 

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he 
apologized, "but I had to know how things 
were, because there might come might, I 
say a time when I'd need to know. And 
what you've told me, of course, is just be- 
tween us. Don't let it worry you. And 
say," he was struck by a generous thought, 
"if this garter thing you're mixed up in gets 
too hot for you, shove it off on to me. I'll 
stand for it anything you like but murder. 
Now, me for the tall timbers. " 



3 o6 MY LADY'S GARTER 

He silently unlocked the door into the 
nurse's room, then the door into the hall. 

"Good night," he said. "Hope you're 
all right again soon. I'm sorry you're not 
well. As a matter of fact, I'm rather strong 
for your family. You know, I had an idea 
once I'd like to be your son-in-law. Good 
night." 

The door opened and closed, silently; The 
Hawk was gone. The fairy tale was at an 
end. Brokaw Hamilton turned over com- 
fortably, and went to sleep. 

For the second time Detective Meredith 
was summoned to the Ritz-Carlton by the 
Russian ambassador. The first person he 
met as he entered the private reception room 
was Bruce Colquhoun! 



CHAPTER V 

THERE was something closely akin to 
elation in August von Derp's manner 
as he came out of the room where Brokaw 
Hamilton lay ill, and joined Helen on 
the sun-drenched veranda. Aroused from 
dreamy contemplation of Long Island Sound, 
azure-blue in the distance, she glanced up 
quickly. 

"How is father?" she asked. 

"He had a most comfortable night," was 
the reply. "That, together with the assur- 
ance from John Gaunt that the fight is off 
until he is himself again, seems to have 
acted upon him like a tonic. He is quite 
cheerful." 

"I'm so glad. Positively, I could kiss 
Mr. Gaunt for his magnanimity." 

"And better yet," von Derp continued, 
the while his eager eyes blazed into her own, 
"he has practically consented to to my 
attentions to you!" 

"He has?" There was a curious emphasis 
in the question; von Derp opened his eyes 
inquiringly. 

307 



MY LADY'S GARTER 

"You speak," he said, "as if 

"Let's don't talk about it," Helen broke 
in hurriedly. "Let's talk about " 

"We will talk about it, " von Derp insisted, 
eagerly. "It is the moment I have lived for 
and longed for. You know " 

"Oh, dear!" Helen complained. "Why 
will you?" 

"Because I love you," he interrupted vio- 
lently, passionately. In that moment of 
declaration all the little graces had fallen 
away from him. "Because there has never 
been a moment since I first saw you that I 
-didn't love you. To-morrow your father 
will give his formal consent; to-day is mine 
with you you!" 

Helen regarded him with troubled eyes. 
Mere man has never solved the mystery of 
woman; von Derp, like all the rest of us, 
failed, and in that instant he realized his 
failure. Suddenly he was aware of some- 
thing antagonistic in her attitude. 

"Please don't," she requested, coldly. 

"Why not?" 

"Oh, because," vaguely. 

"But why? You know I love " 

"I'm not in the mood for it, if you must 
know," Helen exclaimed, with an angry little 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 309- 

spot in her cheeks. "And besides you you 
have no right!" 

"You promised," he protested, "that if 
I should clear the name of " 

"You haven't done it," Helen pointed 
out, "and besides, now it isn't necessary." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that Mr. Colquhoun has returned." 

"You knew that?" von Derp didn't seem 
to be surprised. "How did you know it?" 

"Oh, I just knew it. " 

"And Colquhoun's return?" he began. 

"Don't you understand, Mr. von Derp?" 
Helen asked, and there was almost an appeal 
in her voice. "Don't you understand that 
I I am under obligations to Mr. Colquhoun? 
That I had faith in him? That it was horrible 
to me to think that he should have died under 
a cloud? That there was nothing I wouldn't 
have given to have lifted that cloud? I had 
been unjust to him; it was only fair that I 
should make reparation even to a dead man!" 

Von Derp arose suddenly, his fingers 
gripped in his palms, his face pallid. 

"And," he said steadily, with accusing 
eyes, "you would have used me to Your 
promises to me meant nothing?" 

"I made no promises," Helen pointed out. 



310 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"But I have said that there is nothing I 
wouldn't have given to do justice to his 
memory nothing, understand, even myself! 
Now that Mr. Colquhoun is alive, and is 
back to prove his innocence; now that " 

Von Derp didn't hear the remainder of it. 
He turned away as if in anger and strode to 
the far end of the veranda, where he stood 
for a long time looking out upon the Sound 
with smouldering eyes. Helen regarded him 
curiously. Here was a new mood in him. 
She had never believed him capable of strong 
emotion; always to her he had been merely 
ornamental, superficial, elegant like the the 
trimmings of a motor car! Von Derp strode 
back toward her, his face grave ; again he was 
the mathematically precise, ultra-courteous 
individual she had always known. 

"Miss Hamilton, you have never under- 
stood just who I am, " he said with that odd 
twist of speech which was characteristic of 
him in his serious moments. "Your father 
understands, but for your information I'll 
say I'm of a family old in German history, 
and wealthy as your own. But," and he 
emphasized the word, "in spite of all that I 
am a special agent of the Imperial Secret 
Service of Germany. I tell you this to make 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 311 

you understand that when you pledged me 
to to clear Bruce Colquhoun's name of its 
enshrouding ignominy, as you expressed it, 
you came to one who was able to bring to 
bear a vast experience in matters of this 
sort." 

He paused. Helen's mouth had dropped 
open a little in her utter astonishment. He 
was only a policeman! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! 
He went on: 

"I began the task you set for me. But 
I didn't go ahead with it because " He 
broke off suddenly. "Perhaps I had better 
stop. I had intended to save you the shame 
of all this." 

"Go on, please," said Helen bravely. All 
at once something rose in her throat. "Go 
on!" 

Von Derp shrugged his shoulders. 

"Instead of proving that Bruce Colquhoun 
was not The Hawk I found myself proving 
that he was The Hawk!" 

Helen came to her feet with a blaze in the 
blue, blue eyes. 

"I don't believe it!" she said. 

"It doesn't really matter whether you be- 
lieve it or not," von Derp told her. "He 
has never explained to your satisfaction who 



3 i2 MY LADY'S GARTER 

he is, has he? No. Or why it was so neces- 
sary to keep his identity hidden? No. He 
has never explained his absence from Satuit 
on every occasion when there was a jewel 
robbery in Boston, twenty-five miles away, 
has he? No. He has never " 

"I don't believe it!" Helen repeated dog- 
gedly. 

"It is susceptible of proof immediate 
proof," von Derp stated. "I knew, before 
you did, that Bruce Colquhoun had chosen 
to return to life. I located him, oddly 
enough, in the hotel where I live; in my offi- 
cial capacity I searched his apartments, and 
found, not what I sought, but the Countess 
of Salisbury's garter! I found some of the 
jewels stolen in the Boston thefts; I found, 
even, some of your jewels! And this was 
the man whose memory " 

"I don't believe it!" 

"Your attitude," von Derp informed her 
coolly, with a slight raising of his brows, "is 
a credit to your heart, not your head; inci- 
dentally, it is no compliment to me. Per- 
haps you will give me an opportunity to 
prove what I say?" His voice softened 
strangely. "Believe me, there is nothing 
vindictive in my attitude. I love you; you 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 313 

don't love me you do love a man who is 
not worthy! Could you imagine anything 
more hideous than sacrificing yourself to 
that man? And understand me, I haven't 
reported to the police what I know, and 
because of my love for you I will not. But 
let me prove what I say I can give you all 
the proof you can demand. If I fail to con- 
vince you " He shrugged his shoulders. 
"May I prove it?" 

"How?" Helen demanded rebelliously. 

"It's simple enough. Will you come to 
his apartments with me and allow me to 
show you the things he has stolen? The 
jewels for which the police are scouring the 
world? Will you come?" 

"I will!" 

Helen didn't hesitate; this was no time 
for hesitation. Blindly, even against the 
evidence of her own reason at times, she had 
come to believe in Bruce Colquhoun; she 
was wearing his ring now, as a token of her 
faith in him. If he had deceived her! Her 
strong young hands closed spasmodically. 

The run downtown in the motor car was 
made in silence. Von Derp ushered Helen 
ceremoniously into the public parlor. 

"Allow me," he said, "to inquire at the 



3 i4 MY LADY'S GARTER 

office if Colquhoun is in. It is not desirable 
that we should be interrupted." 

She nodded, and he went away. He was 
gone perhaps five minutes, then together 
they went up in the elevator. Not once had 
it occurred to Helen that she was doing the 
unconventional thing. There was only the 
thought that if Bruce had deceived her, she 
must know it now. She suffered herself to 
be led along a corridor; together they entered 
an apartment on the fifth floor. There was 
something uncanny in von Derp's silence. 

"If everything is just as it was the other 
day," he explained in a cautious undertone, 
"the Countess of Salisbury's garter should 
be here!" With his knife blade he threw the 
bolt in a small drawer of an escritoire, and 
pulled it open. ' ' It is here ! ' ' 

Helen looked, and looking fell back a step 
with one hand pressed to her eyes. The 
garter was there; brilliant, beautiful, scintil- 
lating. Von Derp paused, to gaze triumph- 1 
antly into her face. In that instant she 
hated him! He was working at a lower 
drawer of a cabinet. Finally he pulled it 
open. 

"Here, please," he said quietly. 

Again Helen looked, and a little cry rose to 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 315 

her lips. She stifled it, in helpless agony, 
and stood holding her clenched hands tightly 
to her lips. The bottom of the drawer was 
a shimmering, coruscating mass of jewels 
here a pearl necklace worth many thousands 
of dollars; brooches, bracelets, rings, neck- 
laces of diamonds ! 

"For some reason he keeps a portion 
of the stolen stuff in this other room," von 
Derp explained. "If you will step this 
way?" 

"I've seen enough," she gasped, helplessly. 

"But you haven't seen the most important 
of all, " he declared. 

Mutely she followed him; another drawer 
opened under his magic touch, and there 
there were her own jewels, at least a part of 
them! The cry came then rage, morti- 
fication, agony! He had lied to her! That 
great joy that had come to her the other day 
when she, believing him dead, had found him 
living, died now. He had said that he had 
returned to prove his innocence. It had 
sounded plausible, so like him; and even at 
that moment he was hiding the jewels he had 
stolen from her. She swayed a little, and 
von Derp steadied her. 

"Is the proof sufficient ?" he asked. 



316 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Home!" she murmured faintly. "Please 
take me away. I am ill ! " 

Von Derp bowed courteously, and together 
they returned to the room they had just left. 
At that instant the door from the hall opened, 
and two men entered Bruce Colquhoun and 
Detective Meredith. There was tense silence 
for a moment, then Helen drew back with 
a cry; von Derp seemed nonplused. Into 
Bruce 's face came a sudden storm; it passed. I 

"Lock the door, Meredith," he directed. 

"You'll permit us to go, please," said von 
Derp. 

"Lock the door, Meredith," Bruce re- 
peated. "We came to this apartment to 
take The Hawk. " 

"And you will," von Derp interrupted. 
"Take him, Meredith there he stands beside 
you, this so-called Bruce Colquhoun! Take 
him! Meanwhile," he started toward the 
door. Helen clung to him desperately. 

Meredith, who had seemed oddly befuddled, 
was galvanized into action all at once. There 
was grim joy in his face as he strode toward 
von Derp. 

"We came to take The Hawk," he said. 
"Hold out your hands!" 

"I?" von Derp started back in amazement. 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 317 

"I? The Hawk? Really, Meredith, you're 
an amusing person. " He burst out laughing. 
"I? The Hawk?" 

The perfect sincerity of his laugh, his 
manner, his tone caused Meredith to stop and 
look around helplessly at Bruce. Helen 
dropped down into a chair, with her face in 
her hands. 

"Perhaps, Miss Hamilton, you had better 
go?" 

Bruce stood beside Helen solicitously. She 
shook her head. 

"And where, pray, did you get the impres- 
sion that / was The Hawk?" von Derp 
taunted Meredith. His shallow eyes had 
narrowed to mere slits. 

"I know it," Meredith declared forcibly. 
"I know it because " 

"Well?" 

"First, because there have been no crown 
jewels stolen from Germany. I have that 
on the direct authority of the chief of the 
Imperial Secret Service." 

"Naturally," and von Derp shrugged his 
shoulders, "he doesn't let American policemen 
into secrets of that nature." 

"Also, I know it because you lied to me 
about the plan of that house where I found 



3 i8 MY LADY'S GARTER 

you that night. You said you had mailed 
it to me. As a matter of fact, Mr. Col- 
quhoun mailed it to me! He picked it up 
aboard the motor boat where you had dropped 
it." 

"He's what do you Americans say? 
he's bluffing." 

"And finally," the detective drew two 
photographs and a slip of paper from his 
pocket, "I know it because I have exact, 
indisputable proof here. Here is the thumb- 
print of The Hawk, made in blood, in his 
last robbery; here is a duplicate of that 
thumbprint found on the Pyramid, showing 
The Hawk had been there. " 

"Naturally," von Derp nodded. "He 
lived aboard the boat. " 

"And last, on this slip of paper, I have Mr. 
Colquhoun's thumbprint. // is not the same! 
You can still convince me that you are not 
The Hawk, here, now! Do you dare to put 
your thumbprint beside these other three for 
comparison?" 

"Certainly," said von Derp obligingly. 
"How shall I make the impression? There's 
a plate-glass tray there ; it will take an impres- 
sion admirably. Allow me," and he moved 
toward the bathroom, "to step in here and 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 319 

put a little soap on my thumb so we may get 
a good print." 

He disappeared into the bathroom. The 
door closed behind him with a crash, and 
Meredith and Colquhoun leaped toward it. 
From beyond the sturdy oaken panels came 
the muffled crack of a revolver ! 

"God!" Meredith dropped back. "He's 
killed himself!" 

The world swam around Helen; she 
screamed once, then fainted. Her last 
impression of visible things was of Bruce and 
Meredith battering at the bathroom door. 



CHAPTER VI 

WHEN consciousness returned to Helen 
she was being held close, close, in 
Bruce's arms, his eyes burning into hers, 
his face seared by the torture of anxiety. 

"Thank God," he said. 

"Is is he dead?" she faltered. 

"No," said Bruce. "He escaped. Mere- 
dith's gone in pursuit. He locked the door 
and fired the shot to make us think it was 
suicide. While we were trying to break in 
he stepped out on the fire escape, ran along 
to the window opening into the hall, and got 
away. It took us fifteen minutes to smash 
the door; he has just that much start of 
Meredith!" 

Helen closed her eyes, infinitely relieved. 
It was best that he should have escaped, for, 
after all Suddenly she remembered that 
she was being held very tightly in a young 
man's arms, and struggled to free herself. 
And that young man was a thief! He had 
stolen her jewels. 

"Let me go, " she panted angrily. 

"No, "Bruce held her. 

1 ' You must ! I you ' ' 
320 




"From beyond the sturdy oaken panels came the muffled 
crack of a revolver!" 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 321 

"Why?" 

"Because you you I hate you! You 
are a thief!" 

"Indeed!" Bruce pinioned her arms, and 
gazed deeply into indignant eyes, with a 
slight smile. "What have I stolen?" 

' ' Jewels my jewels other people's jewels. ' ' 

"The Hawk von Derp stole those, not 
I." 

"Then what what in the name of goodness 
are all those things doing here in your 
apartment?" 

"This," said Bruce, "is not my apartment. 
It's von Derp's apartment. Meredith and 
I came here to arrest him!" 

"Von Derp's apartment?" Helen was so 
amazed she forgot to struggle. "But he 
said he brought me here to your apart- 
ment to convince me !" She stammered on 
into silence. ' ' Well ! ' ' she exclaimed. ' ' And 
he is really The Hawk? He, and not you?" 

"He is really The Hawk," Bruce assured 
her. "I will pay him the compliment of 
saying that he is one of the most gifted young 
men of my acquaintance. He was prepared 
for everything on earth but that thumbprint 
test; he had even forged indisputable creden- 
tials which, in an emergency, he used to 

21 



332 MY LADY'S GARTER 

identify himself to Meredith after Meredith 
had actually caught him in a theft!" 

"Then," Helen wriggled out of the encir- 
cling arms and pushed him away, "then who 
are you?" 

"I? That's so, you don't know me, do 
you?" Bruce was apologetic. "I am one 
of the most cordially hated men in the world. 
I'm in the diplomatic service of Russia, 
despite the fact that I'm an American. I've 
been in that service for years, and have been 
honored with the confidence of the Czar. 
He exalted me to a position beyond my 
actual worth, and so it devolved upon me to 
come in conflict with the nihilists. I defeated 
a plot which had for its purpose the death of 
the Czar, and the nihilists passed sentence of 
death upon me. Never in the history of the 
world has a man been so persistently pursued 
as I have been through Siberia, China, 
Japan, Hawaii, through Central and South 
America for more than a year they have 
sought me. Twice I have been slightly 
wounded, four times I have been betrayed by 
people I trusted. Finally I reached the 
point where I trusted no one the police 
least of all. I locked my identity within 
myself, and even then " 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 333 

"And even then?" Helen asked. 

"And even then they found me in Satuit. 
There was only one thing to do to run, and 
I did run; however, I came back, you will 
remember, to see if you still wore the little 
ring. You found it, I see. I thank you. 
I had not given my pursuers credit for their 
shrewdness. They traced me back, and the 
explosion on the Pyramid was the result. 
As I told you, I ran away from Meredith and 
his men that night because I thought they 
were the nihilists. Aboard the Pyramid I 
heard a clock ticking and to me a clock tick- 
ing means an infernal machine! There was 
no clock aboard the Pyramid. I didn't wait. 
I went straight over the far side, and was a 
hundred feet off when the explosion came. In 
the excitement I swam ashore, and escaped, 
allowing the police, the nihilists, the world 
at large everybody to believe that I was 
dead! That gave me opportunity to haul 
in fourteen of the nihilists in Paterson, New 
Jersey, with the aid of special agents of the 
Russian government who are under orders of 
the Russian ambassador. At the same time 
half a hundred others were taken in Russia, 
and I think it is safe to say that the most 
powerful band of assassins in the world is 



324 MY LADY'S GARTER 

broken up." He paused and stared deep, 
deep into the wondering eyes. " I love you, " 
he added irrelevantly. 

"But but what is your name?" Helen 
stammered, her face suffused. "You told 
me that Colquhoun " 

"Oh, my name. It's Treadway Bruce 
Treadway , of Virginia stock. My mother was 
a Colquhoun, a descendant, by the way, of 
the Countess of Salisbury to whom, in 1344, 
Edward III gave the jeweled garter which 
has been so prominent in matters concerning 
you and me. By the way," he added, "did 
you ever see that garter?" 

"Yes," said Helen. "I saw it in the 
drawer " 

"Oh, that's the one that was stolen from 
the British Museum," Bruce informed her. 
"Here's another." He produced the glitter- 
ing trinket from his long pocketbook; Helen 
caught her breath sharply. "There were 
two of them, it seems, so 

"Naturally a lady would require two," 
said Helen. 

"This one remained in my family, but I 
was never able to identify it perfectly until 
I picked up a photograph the photograph 
you saw on the Pyramid in New London. 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 325 

As a matter of fact, at that time I was out 
of touch with my government, with my 
friends, and I contemplated selling this to 
replenish my supply of cash." 

"Sell that?" exclaimed Helen. "Indeed, 
you will not!" 

"That's right; I will not," Bruce agreed. 
And again, irrelevantly: "I love you!" 

"Bruce Colquhoun, " and Helen struggled 
in his arms, "if if you kiss me, I shall 
scream." 

"And if you don't kiss me," he said 
solemnly, "I shall scream. It might make 
it unpleasant for you, because there are four 
detectives waiting outside the door for my 
permission to come in." 

He was a masterful, arrogant chap. 
Helen's lips parted slightly, flower-like, to 
receive his kiss. 

Dexter, of Scotland Yard, was an amazed 
person when he was summoned to police 
headquarters that afternoon and the Countess 
of Salisbury's garter, with one of the dia- 
monds missing, was placed in his hands. 

"Where did you get it?" 

"It was among the stolen jewels recovered 
in The Hawk's apartments," Meredith told 



326 MY LADY'S GARTER 

him curtly. "Give me a receipt for it, and 
hustle it over to London before something 
else happens to it." 

" But, I say, you know, who had it? " Dex- 
ter insisted. ' ' What millionaire was it that ' ' 

"Oh, forget it," Meredith advised. "It 
wasn't John Gaunt, anyway." 

"But, you know gad! It's too bad! I 
was convinced Gaunt had it, you know; I 
even searched his house for it. Too bally 
bad, eh, what?" 

Four days, with Meredith and his men 
raging, sped by, and there was no trace of 
The Hawk. A portion, but only a portion, 
of the stolen jewels had been recovered; 
obviously, from The Hawk's manner of 
living, the remainder had been converted 
into cash through some subterranean channel. 
Early in the afternoon of that fourth day 
Meredith's 'phone rang. 

"Hello!" 

"That you, Meredith?" 

"Yes." 

"This is Bruce Colquhoun. Von Derp 
The Hawk will be in Daddy Heinz' old 
place at four o'clock this afternoon. Place 
your men after he enters the place, not 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 327 

before, and you'll get him. Look out for 
the back way, too. " 

"Thanks." Meredith's heart beat faster. 
4 'How do you know he'll be there?" 

"I'll explain when I see you. Now don't 
fail if you want The Hawk!" 

"If I want The Hawk!" Meredith repeated 
grimly. "All I'd give to get him is one of 
my arms, that's all." 

"All right. I'll see you this evening some 
time." 

So it came to pass that while Meredith's 
men were anxiously awaiting the specified 
hour, a pale, clean-shaven young man in 
rigid clerical attire, with thick eyeglasses and 
brown hair brushed back smoothly from his 
placid brow, strode up the walk to the front 
door of Brokaw Hamilton's home and rang 
the bell. 

"Please be good enough," he requested of 
the footman, "to hand my card to Miss 
Hamilton. The Rev. Mr. Arthur Wallace." 

He put his hat on the floor, and sat down 
with his finger tips humbly touching, and 
looked about him meekly at the splendor of a 
millionaire's home. 

"Miss Hamilton," the returning footman 
reported, "has gone out." 



5-5 MY LADY'S GARTER 

"Too bad," commented the caller, gently. 
"May I leave a note for her?" 

The footman bowed and conducted him 
to a desk in the library adjoining. Suppose 
we look over his shoulder as he writes: 

" MT DEAB Miss HAMILTON: 

"I loved yon that accounts for everything. 
There's nothing I wouldn't have done to win yon. I 
did steal; I would have done murder would have, 
but didn't. Every other charge the police bring 
against me is correct. 

" The first thought of placing my identity upon the 
shoulders of Bruce Cdquhoun came the day Meredith 
asked him for that handwriting specimen. Only 
chance had led Meredith so dose to me, and here was 
an opportunity too good to overlook. That hand- 
writing incident gave me an idea. I searched the 
Pyramid to find a sample of Mr. Colquhonn's, and did 
find it a laundry list. If the handwriting experts 
hadn't disagreed then oh, welL 

"I am leaving with the footman a parcel containing 
some few of your jewels that were not found in my 
apartments. Please don't think too badly of me. 

"Sincerely, 



The clerical young man sealed the envelope, 
and banded it, with a parcel, to the waiting 
footman. 

" If you will please see that Miss Hamilton 
in person receives these?" he requested 



WHO IS THE HAWK? 329 

meekly. "And, while I am here, may I use 
your telephone, please?" 

"Certainly, sir." 

The footman held open the door of the 
booth, and the young man disappeared in- 
side. Two minutes later New York police 
headquarters was on the other end of the 
wire. 

"Mr. Meredith is out, isn't he?" 

"Yes," came the reply. 

" Please tell him when he conies in that cn:e 
upon a time he remarked that The Hawk 
could never make a monkey of him again. 
And add that The Hawk has made a monkey 
of him again. Inform him that it was not 
Bruce Colquhoun who sent him on the wild- 
goose chase to West Thirtieth Street, but 
The Hawk in person. " 

"Who who " there was a stammering 
at the other end of the wire, " who is this?" 

"The Hawk!" 

"Holy Moses! Where are you?" 

"Where am I?" The young man smiled 
blandly. "I am in Jersey City. Give my 
regards to Mr. Meredith. Good-by." He 
was about to hang up. "Oh, one other 
thing," he called. "It wasn't The Hawk 
who was wounded that night the bloody 



ihnmbprmt was left in Boston, although it 

i: 7?. 7 Hi" > 5 ih-.iniiir-n: 1.11 r.rh: The 
~&r who was wounded was The Hawk's 



. 



Tbe rr-^ifTrr :: :"1 Daddy Heinz was 
never frj^ii. Brokaw FTprr^rnn was con- 
vinced th^: thr r:. 

zu: >:>: :".; s:~r iir.rr :r::> >.:. c.:=- 
rr"jLH~.-ri :.~~- ::~r in irminir _ :v. 

-rr in 
j: 



Scctiasd Yani, LondoiL 



CHAPTER VH 
OU kmm,** said Helen, Tue ooJy 

ODIGC&lOBl uk 2DB^'^"" r ^WMB 



. .1.1": Z-rli" JI . ll'.r 1__ __f-.l. 
It 




- =-. -= ii-T 

. . _ - ,. _ -'-'- -i.Lr~ ~.~ ' ~ ~ 

. 

I "_T _ :>1~~7'1 "..JLT't'f I H I'.r 



*" 'Doa't grab 
"*Sappose I had grabbed you?*" 
"*I shcnM locve paodied yarn it 
" Why Jta 



A 

^^L^^M^t4vir 1%Mik^iAk -tfw^^rwiMVwV 4 
- ~'~~.^ - - - . _'7i- .-"- ^ 

oKfieSs ^fl*MiiM- JMI*I 

^ '_~ "_1 ~ T'^ Z r r"HTil~.J! 1-T. 7 r*7'5"~ 7';.~ ~l*7"r*5 1_1'T 

zj::.:r ::!": _-_;" j^-.o _iy 
i _::.f. 
"Do you remember,*" she asfe 

ILT5 1 " ... 



There was saSesBce, brokesi only oy the 

. - . _ ..^- *^- -*- -i,. -.-., .1 

nmmnr <K me sea. unsar fBrappeoi 

them tangibly; 'Aft goSd in the 



332 ' MY,LADY'S GARTER 

became an angry crimson fh red sun was 
gone. To the north, across the marshes, 
a lighthouse leaped into life. Skeets and 
Mercy had turned to watch it. 

"I love you!" it said. "I love you!" 
And again: "I love you!" 



PBQPERTi'GF 
. PROPACH 
CHICAGO. ILL 



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By Henry W. Longfellow 

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UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 



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